


A Court to Call Home

by MellyHorror



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Non-Canonical Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2018-11-29 14:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellyHorror/pseuds/MellyHorror
Summary: What if Feyre had been wrong, and Tamlin's heart was not made of stone? Tamlin is gone. Feyre and Lucien return to the Spring Court where Lucien has been appointed temporary High Lord but things are not what they seem in the Court and Lucien and Feyre must find a new Court to call home.





	1. A Heart of Stone Beats No More

**Author's Note:**

> Canon Divergent at the end of A Court of Thorns and Roses. I've taken some liberties with the story line as well.

_I couldn't breathe, not as I replayed the memory, not as I recalled the conversation I'd overheard one day. Lucien and Tamlin in the dining room, the door wide open for all to hear – for **me** to hear. “ **For someone with a heart of stone, yours is certainly soft these days.”**_

 

_I looked at Tamlin, my eyes flickering to his chest as another memory flashed. The Attor in the garden laughing. **“Though you have a heart of stone, Tamlin,” the Attor said, “you certainly keep a host of fear inside it.”**_

 

 _Amarantha would never risk me killing him – because she knew I_ **_couldn't_ **_kill him. Not if his heart couldn't be pierced by a blade. Not if his heart had been turned to stone. I scanned his face, searching for any glimmer of truth. There was only bold rebellion within his gaze._

 

_There was such a thing as Fate – because Fate had made sure I was there to eavesdrop when they'd spoken in private, because Fate had whispered to Tamlin that the cold, contrary girl he'd dragged to his home would be the one to break his spell, because Fate had kept me alive just to get to this point, just to see if I had been listening._

 

_And there he was – My High Lord, my beloved, kneeling before me._

 

“ _I love you.” I said, and stabbed him._

 

 

_~~~~~_

 

Tamlin cried out as my blade pierced his flesh, breaking bone, and then sliding home. Into his heart. For two sickening heartbeats, as the blood rushed my hand, I was frozen. What had I just done? Then his face turned as ash as the daggers maker and the world came rushing back around me. He slumped forward against my hand, “Feyre...” he murmured, “I love you.”

 

I scrambled back, dagger pulling out of him with sickening ease, as tears blurred my vision. In the distance I heard a cry of pain – Lucien. Faeries murmured to one another and I searched the crowd. The mask was still upon Lucien's heart broken face. Anger and anguish churned in my stomach.

 

Who was I? What did I just do?

 

“She won!” someone in the crowd said, “free them.” another echoed, “She's done enough!”

 

Amarantha's face blanched, this had not been what she was expecting either. Had she truly thought Tamlin's heart was made of stone? Had she thought I'd be too weak to stab the man I loved? Had she thought me smart enough not to try?

 

“I'll free them whenever I see fit. Feyre didn't specify _when_ I had to free them – just that I had to. At some point. Perhaps when you're dead,” she finished with a hateful smile. “You assumed that when I said instantaneous freedom regarding the riddle, it applied to the trials, too, didn't you? Foolish, stupid human.”

 

I watched as she descended the steps of the dais. Her fingers curled into claws – Jurian's eye was going wild within the ring, his pupil dilating and shrinking. I couldn't move, “And you,” she hissed at me, “ _you_. I'm going to kill you.”

 

Someone cried out but I didn't move, couldn't even try to get out of the way, as something far more violent than lightning struck me, and I crashed to the floor, “ _I'm going to make you pay for your insolence.”_ Amarantha snarled. A scream ravaged my throat as pain like nothing I had known before erupted through me.

 

My bones were shattering as my body rose and then slammed onto the floor hard, and I was crushed beneath another wave of torturous agony.

 

“Admit you don't really love him, and I'll spare you,” Amarantha breathed, and through my fractured bloodied vision, I saw her prowl toward me stepping over Tamlin's body like it was just a piece of debris, “Admit what a cowardly, lying, inconstant bit of human garbage you are.”

 

I wouldn't – I wouldn't say that even if she splattered me across the ground. But I was being ripped apart from the inside out, and I thrashed, unable to out-scream the pain.

 

“ _Feyre!”_ someone roared. No, not someone – Rhysand. It terrified me more than anything I'd ever heard, even over the pain. The feral sound in his voice. Desperate and scared. What could make him sound like that?

 

Amarantha didn't hear it. “You think you're worthy of him? A _High Lord_? You think you deserve anything at all, human?” my back arched in way I'd never be able to in my life. My ribs cracked slowly, one by one. I couldn't scream, I had nothing left.

 

Rhysand yelled my name again – yelled it as though he cared, as if this torture was hurting him. I blacked out, but she brought me back, ensuring that I felt everything, ensuring that I screamed every time a bone broke. Ensuring that everyone watching knew that even though you could pass her tests _she_ still ruled.

 

Faeries were shouting, most unable to move from their spots. Calling her a liar and a cheat. Demanding the Spring Court be freed, that I be spared, but it was all white noise to us. For Amarantha it was just her and me, and my unending pain.

 

And then I felt nothing.

 

 **Feyre.** Rhysand's voice echoed through my head.

 

It was Rhysand, using our connection to block my pain. My body still broke, I still screamed, but I felt nothing and Amarantha was none the wiser. I saw us then, as he snuck behind her to where the first faerie lay and removed the dagger, silent as night. I was in his mind.

 

“You're all pigs – all scheming, filthy _pigs_!”

 

I sobbed between screams as her foot connected with my broken ribs, again and again, “your mortal heart is _nothing_ to us.”

 

Then Rhysand was on his feet, the bloody knife in his hands. The pain came washing back over me and I screamed so loud I could taste blood. He launched himself at Amarantha, swift as a shadow, the ash dagger aimed at her throat.

 

She lifted a hand – not even bothering to look – and he was blasted back by a wall of white light. The pain eased long enough for me to see him hit the ground and rise again, lunging for her – with hands that now ended in talons. He slammed into the invisible wall Amarantha had raised around herself and my pain flickered as she turned to him.

 

“You traitorous piece of filth!” she seethed, “You're just as bad as these human beasts. You _wont_ save this one!”

 

She hit him with another blast of magic, I could feel each time she hit him through our bond but I was focused, on my own dagger nearby, just by my finger tips. She wasn't looking at me anymore, distracted by Rhys. My fingers trembled over the hilt. Rhysand sent an encouraging wave through the bond.

 

I slid it behind my back, out of her sight, “Stop, please.” I breathed, reaching for her feet. Pulling her attention from Rhys.

 

Rhys's arms buckled as she fought to rise, and blood dripped from his nose, splattering on the marble. His eyes met mine. The bond between us went taut and I flashed between my body and his again, seeing myself through his eyes, bleeding and broken and sobbing.

 

I snapped back into my own mind as Amarantha turned to me again, but my eyes were still locked on Rhysand's, on something I didn't want to think was there. A new memory surfaced, as Amarantha snarled at me, “ _Say that you don't love him!”_

 

**For though each of my strikes lands a powerful blow,**

**When I kill, I do it slow**

**But scorned, I become a difficult beast to defeat.**

**But I bless all those who are brave enough to dare.**

 

Amarantha's hands were at my throat, “ _say it, you vile beast!”_

 

My eyes swept from Tamlin, to Lucien, to Rhysand bleeding and broken, those eyes so dark and earnest, everyone in this throne room wanted one thing, to be free. And I had it, I knew it, “ _Love_.” I wheezed, “The answer to the riddle is love.” My hand shot out fast and true, burying the ash dagger in her side.

 

Amarantha cried out as a wave of magic burst through the room making my head spin. Rhysand's dark violet eyes went wide as Amarantha's hand tightened around my neck, and with a quick jerk of her hand I heard something snap.

 

The next second I was growling, racing toward Amarantha's back, slicing through the air where the barrier had once been and digging the dagger home right into her back, driving and twisting until her body sagged lifelessly. I threw her body aside, off of the small broken one it had destroyed. Tamlin was groaning, crawling towards me and this broken body.

 

The mask was gone from his face. His beautiful face, ashen and on the verge of death. A death that I caused.

 

It was then I realized that the broken body was mine, and I was once again seeing through Rhysand's eyes. He was the first to approach my body followed Lucien and a man who had a similar face to him, his father.

 

The High Lord of the Autumn court looked between Rhys and Tamlin, who was being lifted by Lucien from the ground. He looked to Rhysand pointedly as he held his hand out and tipped it over, a spark of light fell upon me. It flashed and vanished as it touched my chest.

 

He was followed by another man, with shimmering dark skin and brilliant white and gold robes. This man looked from Tamlin to Rhysand slowly, sadly almost, before repeating the High Lord of Autumn's action. This spark too flashed and vanished as it touched my chest.

 

The High Lord of Day.

 

He was followed by three others, Rhysand's mind told me they were the High Lords of Dawn, Summer and Winter. But they were far away and I was slowly slipping out of Rhysand's mind.

 

Rhysand straightened his back as he stood through his pain, pushing my soul from his body back into mine as he extended his hand over my body, a sad look on his face as his eyes cast over Tamlin's dying form, as Lucien helped him raise his hand over my chest.

 

The world grew dark around me, the pain faded, and I was gone, one last thought whispering against my mind, _I love you Feyre._

 

-

 

Everything was heavy, and dark, and thick. I didn't want to move or blink or breathe. I wanted it to be over and done, but there was whispering and movement. Everything reeked of dried blood and I smelled like I had been long dead.

 

My eyelids struggled to open but when they did I found the chandelier hanging from the ceiling above me, clean and beautiful. Everything that the throne room I was laying on the floor of was not. My hand was gripping something cold and metallic.

 

The dagger was still clenched tightly in my hand, dripping blood down my fingers. I threw it away, startled, and bolted up right. Murmurs of alarm sounded through the chamber as it clattered noisily across the room, nearly deafening me.

 

Blood, so much blood.

 

Lucien was at my side in an instant, smoothing my hair back and dragging my face pointedly to meet his. Everything came rushing back then, the trials, the riddle, Amarantha, the two fae I'd murdered -Tamlin.

 

Lucien knew the exact moment I realized and lifted me from the ground, carrying me away from the center of the throne room where Tamlin still lay, inches from where I had just been reborn. I watched, numb, as members of the Spring Court carried away his body and the other two Fae I'd killed for their freedom.

 

Lucien left me on my own in the quiet corner of the throne room, he couldn't stand to look at me after I killed his friend. I couldn't blame him. I awkwardly pulled my knees to my chest, the movements foreign and clumsy, but I was able to get into a tight enough ball that I might just will myself to disappear.

 

I could hear every step they took, the swish of the fabric of their clothes, the whispers of the Fae farthest away from me. It was all I could do not to claw me ears off. I'd become a High Fae. I was immortal, and Tamlin was _dead_.

 

The tears started coming, like a sudden thunderstorm. I couldn't control my breathing as I sobbed, great heaves that racked my chest and echoed throughout the throne room. Everyone stopped then, eyes on me. On Feyre, the little human girl who had killed their loved ones and their High Lord and who had been given a gift for doing so.

 

The throne room was filled with darkness, everyone disappeared, taking their noise and stares with them.

 

“Feyre.” A soft voice whispered through the darkness.

 

Within it, Rhysand hovered before me, the rest of the court nothing but background noise. His violet eyes filled with shock and wonder at _something_ and he stumbled back slightly, pausing. The look was gone as quickly as it had come, a quick blink of his violet eyes and the Rhysand I was used to stood before me,“let's find you a quiet place?” he offered his voice trembling slightly but so gentle it made my chest ache.

 

“I don't deserve this. I killed them all.” I sobbed loudly. A few people made startled noises from beyond the darkness. Darkness Rhys was cloaking us in, I realized.

 

“Feyre, what you did to save us all is something nobody could ever repay you for. Do not blame yourself for their deaths. We must all make sacrifices during war.” he didn't give me the chance to try and stand, instead he bundled me into his arms and the darkness faded away, revealing the throne room once more.

 

I buried my face in his neck as he carried me away through a million halls and into a bedroom so far away I couldn't hear a thing, “Would you like someone to stay?” he asked, looking around the room uncertainly.

 

“I don't deserve this.” I whispered again.

 

“Yes, you do.” he answered, “You don't see it now, Feyre. You most likely wont for a long time, but we owe you our lives. The spark we all gave you to bring you back was only a fraction of debt we owe.”

 

“The spark?” I questioned, only barely remembering Lucien's father dropping a glowing spark onto my chest, through Rhysand's eyes.

 

“It is a gift that only a High Lord can give. When we all chose to give it, it can bring someone back from the dead.” he murmured softly, as if I might startle like a deer and bolt away. Maybe I would, if I knew how to operate these awful new legs.

 

“All?” my voice is barely a squeak, but I knew Rhysand could hear me, after all I heard me.

 

“Tamlin too. Every High Lord of every court.” Rhysand repeated patiently.

 

“You, too?” I asked, slowly trying to wrap my brain around it.

 

“Yes. You saved me more than anyone, Feyre. I am no longer serving in that vile woman's chambers. Because of you. Because she had to free Tamlin, and when you stabbed her she lost control of all of us in the process.” the wave of magic, before she'd snapped my neck.

 

“Did I kill her?” I didn't know what answer would make me feel better, but I needed to know.

 

“No, Feyre, I did. That is one less death on your shoulders.” he promised me.

 

“Thank you.” I whispered. I wasn't sure if I meant the spark or for Amarantha or for saving me when I was dying in that cell or for whisking me away to this room. He simply nodded, that look of shock over taking his features once more.

 

He disappeared in an instant, heading back out to the throne room no doubt. Leaving me in what I now recognized as his old room where I'd once dug lentils out of the fire place. I sunk from the bed to the floor, dragging sheets with me.

 

I was covered in blood but the dark sheets wrapped me in the smell of citrus and the sea, comforting and safe. I tried not to think about that fact that it was _Rhys_ that I was breathing in. Instead I closed my eyes and buried my face in the soft fabric, grateful for the silence around me, at least for a few moments.

 

I wasn't alone long before Rhys's shadow servants appeared in the room, leading me gently into a bathing chamber. They peeled my bloodied clothes off of my new body and eased me into a tub that was full of dark blue liquid, it looked like a swirling sky.

 

It was so beautiful, and yet I didn't want to bother trying to figure out how I might paint it. Instead I focused on the warmth and the clean smell. The water was relaxing and eased into my bones as it washed away the blood of those fae I killed, and my own blood, and Amarantha's. I didn't deserve this, I didn't deserve anything other than the death that was taken from me.

 

But they washed me up, combed my hair and dressed me once more.

 

This time it was in a real gown that covered me from head to toe. There was no paint, no sheer fabric, simply soft material that draped over me like a hug. Though I would have preferred pants and a shirt, I wasn't up to argue. Instead I followed them, my bare feet on the floor a new sensation with every step. Their hands brushed my arms occasionally or grabbed me when I stumbled like a new born creature over these new awkward limbs.

 

The fabric of the light blue dress rustled as I followed them to the throne doors, like the breeze in the middle of spring. My heart clenched and tears threatened to fall again. They both stopped with sad smiles, and brushed away the tears on my cheeks before disappearing into the shadows.

 

I was alone less than a second before the doors opened and Lucien offered me his arm. I gripped it for dear life, following him into the room with my stomach in knots. It had been cleaned up in my absence. No sign of the fae I'd killed, or Amarantha, or Clare on the wall, or Tamlin on the dais where he always was.

 

A lot of the Fae were gone now, only the High Lords and their advisers remained, it seemed. All except for one. I stumbled a bit, my hands flying to my face to ebb the tears threatening to fall once more, “Feyre, Cursebreaker.” the first High Lord to spot me whispered, bowing slightly to me.

 

The others followed quickly, the last of them being Rhysand who took my tattooed hand and kissed the back of it before bowing, lower than the rest had. A zapping feeling shot up my arm from the palm of my hand at the contact. I clung to Lucien for dear life. I needed to be out of here, back in the real world.

 

What was the real world anymore? Tamlin was gone, I was now trapped in Prythian without my High Lord.

 

“High Lords,” Lucien started graciously, “Perhaps we should eat and rest, and discuss matters once we've done so. A lot has happened, and I think its best we all let the past few hours sink in.” I feel his gaze cut to me but I do not look up from the spot on the wall where Clare had been just minutes ago.

 

“I think that would be for the best.” a High Lord agrees, stepping forward to place a hand on my shoulder. The man appears to be glowing and giving off a warmth that sets me slightly at ease, “Let's see about getting you some food. And maybe something to drink.”

 

The wine Rhysand had been plying me with before sounded damn good right about now. I nodded and Lucien led me out of the throne room behind him, “Helion, High Lord of the Day Court, by the way.” he answered my unasked question, giving me a playful smirk over his shoulder before pushing open another set of doors.

 

A table laden with a feast sits before us, untouched. The High Lords all stand behind chairs, waiting for me to take a seat. I edge toward Rhysand, across from Helion, with Lucien at my side. I need someone, anyone, familiar. Once I'm seated the others take their chairs, Lucien last.

 

Somewhere in the back of my brain I realize that Lucien and I are only here because Tamlin is not, to represent the Spring Court in whatever this new world was to become.

 

Because there is no High Lord of the Spring Court.

 

I don't have to ask for the wine, Rhysand pours us both a small glass, setting mine before me without a word. None of the other High Lords comment on it as I take the glass and gulp it in one go. It doesn't have the same affect as when I was human, but a comfortable numbness settles over me.

 

We eat in comfortable silence, or maybe it's just because I'm numb, but when the table is cleared and it is just the High Lords, me and Lucien everything becomes tense. I can barely lift my eyes from the table, but sitting here in his Hell isn't doing anyone any good.

 

“What will happen to the Spring Court now?” I whispered.

 

“For now, we must appoint an acting High Fae to mind the court until the Heir comes of age.” Lucien's father explained, “Our first choice would be someone related to the High Lord, but as you are the only person with even an ounce of spark that wont do. You do not know enough of politics.” they all get loud and start arguing about this Fae and that one but my mind has still stalled on one thing.

 

“What Heir?” my voice is barely above a whisper but the table is suddenly silent, like a fire doused by sand.

 

“The night of the Great Rite, Tamlin produced an Heir.” Lucien revealed, “He didn't know yet. I wasn't able to tell him before...everything happened.”

 

“It will be years before he can take the throne, that is not important.” the High Lord of Winter interrupted.

 

“You heard Tamlin, lets not pretend you did not.” Rhysand growled, “He appointed Lucien to the Throne. I for one think that would settle it for now. He acts as High Lord of the Spring Court until the Heir can take the throne or we can come to a better solution. We have all been away from our courts too long to feud over this now.”

 

“It's fine with me.” Helion was the first to agree, followed by the High Lord of Dawn, Summer and Winter. All eyes turn to Lucien's father.

 

“Baron.” Rhysand prompts, his power throbbing through the room.

 

“Fine. The boy can _sit_ in the Throne and play pretend until we find a suitable High Fae.” Baron spat. The High Lords departed in a hurry then, retiring to rooms to rest before their trips home. Lucien offered me his arm again, once everyone had left the room.

 

I followed slowly, through halls I could never hope to navigate on my own, to a large bedroom. He dropped my arm inside the door and strode to the couch, dropping down onto it heavily. I made my way to the bed slowly, not bothering to remove my dress and crawled into the center of it.

 

“Lucien, would Tamlin have had to marry her?”

 

“Not if he was already married. And no, she cannot take the Spring Court for herself, only her child can. That is another matter for another time. Get some sleep, Feyre. We must return to the Spring Court.”

 

The wine and food must've helped, because before I knew it I was waking up slowly, feeling refreshed for a few moments before everything crashed down around me again. A few moments later I registered the impatient tugging pulling me from my sleep.

 

I was being summoned.

 

I followed the tug through the halls, up multiple steps of stairs, and finally out onto a balcony bathed in sunlight. I squinted against the sudden burning on my eyes holding a hang up to shield them, I hadn't thought it was morning already.

 

I didn't know when it even was.

 

“What do you want?” I asked softly, leaning on the edge of the balcony with my back to the sun.

 

“Just to say goodbye, before Lucien whisks you off to the Spring Court and hides you forever.”

 

“Lucien has more important things to worry about than me. Besides, don't you get a week every month?” I asked, wiggling my new strange fingers, the tattoo flexing with the skin of my new hand.

 

“Of course, how could I forget? But I also wanted to check on you, see how you're doing.” Rhysand offered, “I wish I could have saved him.”

 

“No, you don't.” I shot back, no fire behind my words. Only the dull empty feeling in my heart.

 

“For you, I wish I had, Feyre.” his words are earnest and I shift uncomfortably, my eyes latching onto the wings hovering behind his back. I stared at his nose, no longer broken and bleeding.

 

“Why? Why did you attack her?” the curiosity had been niggling at the back of my mind. There was no logical reason for him to think she'd be distracted enough not to notice him.

 

“Because I didn't want you to fight alone. Or die alone.” Rhysand answered, taking two steps to the ledge and leaning against it, flapping his wings softly behind him, stretching them out. They were beautiful and terrifying.

 

“Are you going to fly home?” I turned around to match his pose, looking out over Prythian.

 

“It would take long than I can afford. Flying will have to wait for another day, unfortunately.” he smirked at me and then looked away, down at the ground below us so far away, “how does it feel to be a High Fae?”

 

“Awkward. Clumsy. Painful.” my hand raised to my aching heart, “but this is still human, and I have to wonder if it would hurt less, or be any easier, if it had changed, too.” I turned and walked away from him then, I couldn't bare to cry beside him in the morning light.

 

“Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. pity those who feel nothing at all.” I let the door close behind me and left Rhysand behind. Mostly, the bond led me back to the safety of the room I shared with Lucien and I crawled right back into that bed like I'd never left.

 

~ ~ ~

 

When we arrived back at the Spring Court Alis had cleaned my room and gave me a sad but grateful smile as I passed. I closed the door behind me, changed into night clothes and crawled under the covers without a word.

 

I left the room only to attend Tamlin's ceremony, and returned promptly after before Lucien could stop me. I wasn't ready to face the world without Tamlin, I wasn't ready to face the world after what I'd done. I just wasn't ready.

 

So I stayed in my room, curled up in my bed like everything outside of this world didn't exist. The nightmares were constant and rough. I was trapped under the mountain just me and Amarantha, and the Fae I slaughtered at her request.

 

The marble floors red with blood the color of her hair, my hands coated with the thick cool substance. The life blood of the Fae I'd killed. To save Tamlin, to save them all. I watched the body fall to the floor, lifeless as the other three, raven colored hair obscuring his face.

 

“Again, my lovely Feyre.” Amarantha purred from her throne, an elegant smile on her face. I grabbed the last dagger as the hood was removed from the final Fae. I knew the the face that stared up at me, the blue-gray eyes, the brown-gold hair, the full mouth and sharp cheekbones.

 

Knew the hollowness, the despair, the corruption that leaked from that face. My hands didn't tremble as I angled the dagger. As I gripped the fine-boned shoulder, and gazed into that hated face, my face. And I plunged the ashed dagger into my heart.

 

Every night, some variation of that dream haunted me until I burst awake and scrambled for the bathroom, vomiting into the toilet, hugging the cool sides, trying to contain the sounds of my retching. I didn't want to disturb the rest of the house, no matter if it was early morning or late afternoon.

 

After cleaning my mouth and my face I fumbled back into my bed, curling up under the sheets to wait for the sun to rise. I was hungry today, and I knew I needed to at least let Lucien and Alis know that I was still alive.

 

Even if I didn't deserve to be.

 

Three months since Under the Mountain. Three months since I said goodbye to Tamlin in a ceremony I didn't know the rules of. Three months I'd been locked in his room as often as I could. Three months of nightmares.

 

When Alis knocked on my door I was standing in the center of my room, useless. I felt disgusting but this bathroom was empty of soaps of any kind, my hair was a nest on my head and I really did need to get some fresh air. If only to prove to Ianthe that I could do so on my own.

 

“Feyre. Can I get you anything?” she asked, pushing the door open. If she was surprised to find me standing there she hid it well.

 

“We have no soaps.” my voice is rough and scratchy, from months of screaming and vomiting. Alis doesn't comment, simply leads me down the hall to my old bathroom where a bath is waiting for me. This water was pale blue colored and smelled like the spring court, it reminded me of the bath three months ago, the color of the sky, this the spring sky and not the night.

 

I slipped into the water and scrubbed my skin, my nails, my hair. I scrubbed until I was raw and felt cleaner than I had in my life. I dried off and dressed in the clothes Alis had laid out on the bed. She came in and brushed my hair, letting it loose save for the braid crown she made around my head.

 

“Ianthe is coming here, along with the Heir bearer.” Alis informs me in a whisper.

 

I'd met Ianthe at the ceremony, she was a childhood friend of Tamlin's and a High Priestess. She led the ceremony and moved herself in shortly after. She'd tried to talk to me during my few trips out of the room, and I faked my way through it. She was a friend of Tamlin's and he wouldn't want me to be rude.

 

She was only trying to be nice. I would repeat that to myself a million times, but even Lucien seemed to dislike her and would be off on hunting trips more often than not when she was making herself particularly at home in the mansion.

 

Neither of us had really healed, I couldn't imagine what he was going through, and I wouldn't have blamed him if he'd dropped me in the middle of the woods and left me for dead. Instead he would rush into my room the first two weeks of nightmares and drag me from my screaming fits.

 

I hoped he'd be around today, to see what he made of this girl who would birth the Heir to the Spring Court throne. I looked down at the tattoo on my hand, staring the eye down like I did sometimes. It relaxed me somehow, grounded me.

 

It blinked at me once and that was all I needed, “let's go then.” I told Alis, none of the uneasy feelings betrayed by my voice.

 

Alis's face was a composed mask as always as she followed me to the dining room. Lucien was in there alone, reading something with his food untouched in front of him. He looked up when I sat down, gave me a nod of approval and went back to his book.

 

I sat down across from him, elbows resting on the table, “Feyre, it's nice to see you up and about.” he did not look up from the book he was reading. I couldn't sound out the words to read the title and didn't bother trying after a few minutes.

 

“Is it?” I inquired, dragging his plate towards myself as he was clearly not about to touch it. I chewed slowly, jaw sore before my third bite, “did you know that I couldn't read?”

 

Lucien looked up quickly, a million emotions passing over his face, “the second trial...”

 

“Rhysand.” I explained, “that is why I didn't pick an answer until the last second. I thought Tamlin might have told you. I didn't realize that you had no idea.”

 

Lucien regards me silently before putting on his High Lord mask. I can't stand it, but I can hear the footfalls in the foyer, “Did Alis tell you that we would have visitors?”

 

“Yes. Ianthe and the Heir bearer. I assume that would be the girl from the Great Rite?”

 

“You know I like Ianthe about as much as you do.” Lucien grinned just long enough for me to remember my friend from before Under the Mountain, “but she's forced herself upon this Court and the Heir's mother. Her name is Minerva. She did not want to come here, but the other High Lords and Ianthe forced her hand.”

 

I nodded, “Of course she did. She's lake leech.” I told my breakfast unhappily.

 

“Minerva-.”

 

“Not her, Lucien. Ianthe. I don't blame Minerva for her position. That was Tamlin's choice, too.” and it was, that hadn't bothered me since the day I'd learned about it, “I cannot stand Ianthe, but I won't make either of them feel unwelcome.”

 

“Just make Minerva feel comfortable. Feel free to chase Ianthe away.” I smiled down at my food, “We should go for a ride, to the village again, get you away from this place again.”

 

“And you, too, High Lord.” he grimaced and nodded, the doors to the dining room opened and Alis motioned for our guests to enter.

 

Ianthe walked in first, tugging along a very pregnant High Fae. She was tall and elegant, like most High Fae, with dark hair and tanned freckled skin. Her eyes, like Tamlin's were green with amber flecks. My heart throbbed dully in my chest.

 

Her child would no doubt look like him.

 

“Good morning, High Lord.” Ianthe intoned, bowing to Lucien with a sultry smile. It made my skin crawl but Lucien's mask held firm.

 

“Ianthe.” he greeted, “It's lovely to see you again, Minerva. This is Feyre.”

 

“Cursebreaker.” Minerva intoned, bowing awkwardly to me now her belly making the gesture clumsy, “thank you.”

 

“Welcome to the Spring Court, Minerva.” The words felt strange on my lips, but Lucien seemed pleased and Ianthe outright shocked. Like she could not expect _me_ to be civil. She hardly knew me, or the horrors of Under the Mountain.

 

“Thank you, Cursebreaker.” that name made me grind my teeth.

 

“Please, call me Feyre. _Just_ Feyre.” she nodded, green eyes wide. I can't stand to look at her, “I'm going to walk the gardens.”

 

I sweep out of the room without tripping all over myself and head straight to the gardens, finding a safe place away from the house to curl up and hide. All I can see is Tamlin's body laying on the bloodied marble floor.

 

Hot tears track down my face, my fingers are the first to start quaking, and then my arms, my torso, my legs and soon my whole body is a mess of quaking limbs and tears. I smell Lucien before I see him, and his strong arms lift me from the ground and into his chest.

 

He walks with purpose towards the stables, toward the horses, away from this house. I'm not sure how he managed it but we were both astride horses and heading out of the gates in a few moments. Relief washes over me as I leave the mansion behind me.

 

“It's her eyes. They're his eyes.” Lucien whispered, “this will be hard for the both of us, Feyre. If it ever gets too much...”

“There is no choice. I am trapped her as much as she is.” I whispered, “Tamlin...I loved him, he was all I had here. Now I have you and Alis and I can never see my sisters or father again. They would hate what I have become.”

 

Nesta. Nesta would hate me. Elaine would be frightened. Father....I couldn't fathom how he would feel.

 

“I'm sorry, Feyre. For what you lost.” Lucien's words made my chest crack in pain. He slowed his horse, settling a hand on my shoulder, “I don't hate you, for what you did. I will protect you, no matter what, Feyre.”

 

I couldn't look at him, at my friend, “how? After what I did. _How_ could you not hate me?”

 

“Tamlin was ready to die, if it meant all of our freedom. _Your_ freedom. The only one I blame is Amarantha.” Lucien spat her name, fire blazing behind those russet colored eyes, “we have no court, no true court. But I will stay with you.”

 

“You have this court.” Feyre countered.

 

“Not for long. The other High Lords, my _father_ , have moved to let the High Priestess take control of the Spring Court, until he is of age. It was only a matter of time, he doesn't see _me_ as fit to rule even temporarily.” Lucien barked out a bitter laugh.

 

“When were you going to tell me?”

 

“Whenever you were able to leave your room-or when I had to drag you out to come with me. I will not remain here with that wretch in charge, and I won't leave you in her claws. Not with what we both know about you.” we hadn't spoken about it in any capacity. That I showed flickers of other Court's powers while in my terrors.

 

“Where would we go?”

 

“Wherever Feyre Cursebreak would like.” Lucien answered.

 

“ **Don't** call me that.” I snarled.

 

“Of course.” Lucien bobbed his head.

 

We returned to the mansion by dinner time, both of us tired and ready to collapse into our beds from a day spent tearing up our darkest memories and tossing them into the world. Lucien swore it would help, but I only felt tired deep in my bones.

 

Neither of us were prepared for Ianthe to spring down our throats, “I've decided we must have a welcoming party for our High Lord to be. Feyre, wouldn't you be a dear and help us plan?” I didn't dare glance toward Lucien as I nodded, allowing Ianthe to drag me into her claws and away from Lucien. We would be gone soon, anyways.

 

As I followed Ianthe towards the dining room I looked down at the tattoo, staring into that eye. He hadn't come to collect his debt. I wonder if he ever would? The tattoo didn't blink or even give the slightest twinge this time.

 


	2. Welcome to the Court of Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is hopefully the last chapter that will run exactly from the book. From here it will veer out of canon. I should, with any luck, have the next chapter up quickly --providing hurricane Irma doesn't take out my power completely. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Happy reading!

_**Chapter Two** _

 

_**Welcome to the Court of Nightmares** _

 

_~ ~ ~_

 

Guests for the baby shower started arriving weeks before the actual shower. High Fae I'd never met, who had been under the mountain, I could tell because when they'd first see me they'd flinch and then plaster fake smiles across their pretty faces. They avoided me most days, or waited until I was walking through the halls with Lucien to pass close enough by to get a look at the monster who murdered their High Lord.

 

Ianthe had instructed us to act as a united front. Together we would walk the halls, greet new guests, attend breakfast with Minerva and everyone who had arrived, make pleasant small talk like we cared about such things.

 

In down time we'd wander the halls together without talking and then lock ourselves in the study to sit silently without everyone's silent judging stares on us. Lucien and I would often escape the mansion when it became too much by going to visit the rebuilding efforts.

 

At first nobody would accept our help, but after a few trips they were happy for the help of their new High Lord and the Cursebreaker. It only took two trips to convince them to just call me Feyre. It was a good break for the week, the stares here weren't like the stares of the other High Fae and by the time Lucien and I returned we were too tired and excused ourselves to our chambers for the night.

 

Ianthe grew tired of this during the last two days leading up to the shower and kept Lucien busy with boring details and the meeting coming up with the High Lords. It left me with nothing to do but sit in the garden with a book I couldn't read or help Ianthe with her decorations.

 

Minerva never left her room, I had a feeling Ianthe had a lot to do with that, too.

 

No formal announcement had been made, but already she was making it known that she was going to be presiding over the Spring Court. Lucien didn't bother disagreeing with her, he simply moved along like he was supposed to until we could escape.

 

We still had no plan for where to go-I was an outsider and Lucien had no home beyond the borders of the Spring Court. Still we knew this was no longer our home, it couldn't be with Ianthe in every corner of the mansion, trying to figure out what Lucien and I were hiding.

 

Thankfully she'd chosen Lucien as her target, trying to pry information about me out of him during their daily meetings. He was as telling as a stone wall, where as I wasn't sure how to avoid answering her with the same taught grace Lucien had.

 

If she found out about the powers I woke up in the middle of my terrors with I'd never be free of her or the other High Lords. Lucien and I talked about figuring the powers out once we were free of the court, but that was a long ways away.

 

When the morning of the baby shower came Alis woke me early.

 

“Ianthe has requested I get you ready for the day.” there is no inflection in her tone, she just tells me simply, like it was the weather.

 

“Alis, is there anyway to get me out of this?”

 

“Afraid not, my lady.” Alis answered, heading for the bathroom. The smell from the bath reached me, cherry blossoms and fresh air. She scrubbed my hair and skin clean with the fine smelling soap, not talking much beyond simple instructions.

 

Once that was done she dressed me in an over the top pale pink gown that weighed down on me like wet fabric, heavy and suffocating, the high neckline was nearly strangling me. It was heavy and clunky and even with my fae body I could barely begin to figure out how to walk in it.

 

“Is this so I can't run away?” I muttered bitterly. Alis did not answer as she disappeared out the door, leaving it open for me.

 

I met Lucien in the hall, his eyes widened comically and he had to look away to keep from laughing at the sight of me, quickly composing himself and offering me his arm. He was in a pale gray suit with a pink tie to match my dress.

 

I didn't know if that was choice or coincidence but I could not be bothered to ask. I just wanted this day to be over, “This dress is unbearably heavy. I think she's trying to make sure I can't run away.” the corner of Lucien's lips tipped up into a grin.

 

“We make quite the set, Feyre.” Lucien's voice was soft, teasing. I noticed fae around us averting their gazes to give us space. I sighed in relief. It feels strange, to even consider Lucien as someone other than a friend, but I tucked into his side anyways, playing my part.

 

Nobody was allowed into the gardens until closer to sunset, so we were all stuffed into the entry room with a few tables full of drinks and other fae to mingle with. All of the bodies make the room stifling and nearly unbearable. Between the dress's neckline and the heat of the room I felt like I was suffocating and I had to take large deep breaths to keep myself calm.

 

_I'm in the Spring Court. There is no more Under the Mountain. I am safe with Lucien._

 

Lucien stayed beside me, his arm around my back a reassuring presence, as he made the appropriate small talk of a High Lord. I glanced down at my gloved hand, the tattoo hidden beneath it was throbbing warmly, as if it was also trying to reassure me. Ianthe and Lucien spoke of breaking the bond shortly after Tamlin's service, though it never went father than that offhanded remark.

 

I didn't know how I felt about breaking it. I it had become a part of me, and without it I would simply be lost. Maybe it wasn't so bad, after all, to be tied to the Night Court. To be tied to its High Lord. He had yet to collect on the debt, and a part of me wondered why.

 

Lucien kept me circulating around the edge of the room, murmuring peoples names as they came up if I'd already met them. Fae came up to us left and right, speaking of Under the Mountain and my bravery, false things that only served to make me feel more like I was still there, still trapped, still human.

 

I fought to not clench my fist around my drink, fearing if I broke the glass in the middle of this room they would all swarm.

 

At last Ianthe entered the room in her brilliant blue robes, her face twisted into a perfect charming smile, “I'd like it if everyone could please make their way out to the gardens, the Heir Bearer awaits.” as one the room moved outside, Lucien and I swimming the in the middle of a sea of people.

 

As we made it outside the smell of roses tickled my nose.

 

Rose petals covered the ground, mostly whites and pale blues and pinks, and scattered among them brilliant dark red petals. Panic seized my heart, I grabbed at Lucien clawing at him for safety. Amarantha's laugh rang in my ears.

 

Fae bumped into us and murmured but I can't hear anything else.

 

Drops of blood on the marble floor, Tamlin's face growing ashen, my hand dripping as it clenched around the hilt of a knife. I stumbled, Lucien steadied me, eyes wide down at the rose petals too. My hands were stained and dirty.

 

I was unfit to be here, to be looked upon as a savior. I was a murderer, a monster.

 

Chattering rose up around us. They were remembering what a monster I was, what I did to their friends and family. To their High Lord. I didn't deserve to call him my own any longer. I was falling apart, right here in the middle of the roses and drops of blood. I was going to be sick.

 

“Feyre..” Lucien called. But I only heard Amarantha's voice. I could only hear her laughter, her nails clawed around my throat. Her breath as she screamed into my face. Tamlin's blood coating my hands. Those other fae - I'd never bothered to even learn their names.

 

 _Help me, help me, help me, please!_ I screamed, desperate for escape. Lucien's arms wrapped around me and we both fell to the ground. _Save me, save us, please please!_ Lucien was yelling now, ordering people back, but I could see the panic on his face.

 

“Feyre...Lucien...” Ianthe stepped toward us, hands out stretched as if to help us.

 

We stepped back, looking like a pair of rabid dogs most likely, “Come, Feyre Cursebreaker, and bless the Heir Bearer.” her smile reminds me of the wolf in the woods that I killed. _No._ I wont let her touch us. Neither of us.

 

I am a monster, but I will still protect my friend.

 

I tried to get my traitorous lungs to fill with air so I can scream the words, _No no!_ But I didn't have to say it. Thunder cracked behind me, as if two boulders had been hurled against each other. People screamed, falling back, a few vanishing outright as darkness erupted.

 

Lucien and I whirled, and through the night drifting away like smoke on a wind, I found Rhysand straightening the lapels of his black jacket. “Hello, Feyre darling,” he purred.

 

I wasn't surprised in the least that this was how he'd chosen to show up, after all he did like to make a spectacle of everything, but I was however surprised at the sense of relief that flooded through me at the sight of him through my panic.

 

Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, now stood beside us with darkness leaking from him like ink in water. He angled his head, his blue-black hair shifting with the movement. Those violet eyes sparkled in the golden faelight as they fixed on Ianthe.

 

“What a pretty little shower.” Rhysand said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, looking like he hadn't just crashed this party.

 

“You are not welcome here, Rhysand.” Ianthe started to say, when Rhysand fixed her with the full extent of his stare she shrunk back.

 

“ _High Lord_ is the name you're looking for, Ianthe.” he sneered before continuing pleasantly, “I'm merely here to collect on my bargain with our dear Feyre.” Rhysand's eyes flickered across me and Lucien, smiling like the cat who had his prey.

 

“You cant-.” Rhysand cut her off with a wave of his hand.

 

He fixed his eyes on me, then at the Fae around us, “Are we bringing the acting High Lord with us? Not to ruin Ianthe's surprise, but he has officially been dethroned, the Priestess now rule the Spring Court.”

 

Lucien nodded his agreement to come with, holding me tighter. I can still feel the blood on my hands but a new panic sets in. He would take us to the Night Court, the place Amarantha had modeled Under the Mountain after. My panic starts anew, but Rhysand stepped up to us, placing a hand on Lucien and I, “See you in a week, Ianthe.”

 

Darkness roared, a wind tearing me this way and that, the ground falling away beneath me, the world gone around me. Only Rhysand at my back and Lucien in front of me remained and I clung to them. Fear giving way to relief and then back into panic.

 

The darkness vanished. The ground returned.

 

The first thing I smelled was jasmine-and then I saw stars. A sea of stars flickering beyond glowing pillars of moonstone that framed the sweeping view of endless snow capped mountains, “Welcome to the Night Court.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

It was the most beautiful place I'd ever seen. Whatever building we were in had been perched atop one of the gray stoned mountains. The hall around us was open to the elements, no windows to be found, just towering pillars and gossamer curtains, swaying in that jasmine-scented breeze.

 

It must be some magic, to keep the air warm in the dead of winter. Not to mention the altitude, or the snow coating the mountains, might winds sending veils of it drifting off the peaks like wandering mists. It was silent, no screams or crying out for help. Just silence.

 

Curtains blew the in the breeze, balls of fae lights hovered through the air, “This is my private residence.” Rhysand told us, his hands once more buried in his pockets, “You two are welcome to stay here as long as you'd like-but at least a week. I do not know what was troubling you, Feyre darling, but hopefully some time here will bring you peace.”

 

“Where is everybody?” I asked, looking around unsure.

 

Rhysand's eyes meet mine, stark and clear, as if he could sense the panic and the shadows creeping in, “Amarantha wasn't very creative. My court beneath this mountain has long been feared, and she chose to replicate it by violating the space of Prythian's sacred mountain. So yes, there's a court beneath this mountain-the court Ianthe now expects me to be subjecting you to. I preside over it every now and then, but it mostly rules itself.”

 

“When will you take me there?”

 

“I wont be, Feyre. I know you wish to never go under a mountain again, and I will respect that. Cerridwen and Nuala will show you to your rooms. Where you can relax. They'll be across from each other.” and with those words Rhysand disappeared down the hallway in front of us.

 

The two shadow servants emerged when I heard a bright, amused, female voice, “you brought him, too?”

 

“I will explain later.” Rhysand's gruff reply reached my ears before the shadow servants, now whole-y corporeal, appeared before us. I might not have recognized them if they hadn't smiled warmly at me like we were old friends and motioned us to follow them down the hall.

 

Lucien's room was directly across from mine and the twins disappeared to let us get settled, “I'm sorry Lucien...”

 

“It may have been for the best Feyre, I fear Ianthe was up to far more than we were aware of. Change clothes, take a bath, get some rest. It has been a long day.” Lucien slipped into his room without a sound.

 

I turned and disappeared into my room, closing the door with a soft click of the door.

 

My room was a dream.

 

Like the upstairs living area, its windows were open to the brutal world beyond-no glass, no shutters-and sheer amethyst curtains fluttered in that unnatural soft breeze. The large bed was a creamy white and ivory concoction, with pillows and blankets and throws for days, made more inviting by the twin golden lamps beside it. An armorer and dressing table occupied a wall, framed by those glass-less windows.

 

Across the room, a chamber with a porcelain sink and toilet lay behind an arched wooden door, but the bath.... _the bath_.

 

Occupying the other half of the bedroom, my bathtub was actually a pool, hanging right off the mountain itself. A pool for soaking or enjoying myself. Its far edge seemed to disappear into nothing, the water flowing silently off the side into the night beyond. A narrow ledge on the adjacent wall was lined with fat, guttering candles whose glow gilded the dark, glassy surface and wafting tendrils of steam.

 

Open, airy, plush, and...calm.

 

The room was fit for an empress. With the marble floors, silks, velvets and elegant details, only an empress could have afforded it. I tried not think what Rhys's chamber was like, if this was how he treated his guests.

 

Guest-not a prisoner.

 

Well the room proved it, everything I feared about the night court was wrong. I was safe here.

 

Slowly I pulled the heavy dress from my body, letting it fall into a puddle at my feet. I opened the cupboard and shoved the dress into it, followed quickly by the gloves that covered my hand. I grabbed out night pants and a night shirt and tugged them on.

 

The fabric was soft and warm, not heavy and bulky like the dress, not suffocating. Comforting, instead. My feet carried me to the window, I leaned against it, peering out over the mountains. The air was sweet and smelled like jasmine. Such a delightful smell. I closed my eyes and let the warm air blow through my hair.

 

I was thankful I let Alis leave my hair down, I could fear the wind blowing through the strands. Calmness wrapped around me and I moved slowly towards the bed, crawling into it and slipping into sleep quickly.

 

\- -

 

A knock on my door woke me the next morning, Nuala and Cerridwen opened the door a crack, informing me that breakfast was in half an hour and I needed to bathe. In a haze of sleep I followed them into the bathing room. Like the night after Amarantha, they scrubbed my skin and washed my hair.

 

When I was clean they dried my skin and hair, braiding the top around my head like a crown, leaving the rest down. Once they were done I looked at myself in the mirror. I'd been put into high-waisted peach pants. They were loose and billowing, gathered at the ankles with velvet cuffs of bright hold. The long sleeves of the matching top were made of gossamer, also gathered at the wrists, and the top hung just to my navel revealing the barest hint of skin as I walked.

 

I could feel the insistent tug of Rhysand, leading me to him like the morning Under the Mountain. I met Lucien in the hallway. He was in a loose pair of dark green pants and a lighter green tunic top that flowed away from him. His long hair had been twisted back away from his face and his gold eye whirled around, taking in all of the details of the hallway.

 

“Any idea where breakfast will be?” I nodded, motioning forward. We fell in step beside each other, “Did you sleep well?”

 

“I did. You?”

 

“Quite, after that bath in the night...yes I slept quite soundly.” Lucien confirmed, “I don't know what Rhysand is up to, but I am grateful to him for sparing us from Ianthe's plans. I assume that matching us last night for the shower was intentional to make it see us as a united front. I think she may have been trying to force us out.”

 

“I think the same.” I murmured in response, “but why did Rhysand wait _so_ long to collect on our bargain?”

 

“Perhaps, I was waiting for you to ask.” Rhysand's voice was calm and smooth. He didn't even bother to look over at us from his seat at a small table ahead of us. There were four places set out at the table, and Rhysand was casually sat in one of the chairs, leaned back slightly to stare out over the snow capped mountains.

 

“I am not a dog to be summoned.” I tell him, a hint of malice in my tone as we strode into the room. With Lucien at my side I felt more bold and I made my way to one of the chairs, sitting down across from Rhysand. Lucien enters the room and takes a seat between us, dragging it closer to me.

 

“I didn't want you and Lucien to get lost.” Rhysand rumbled reasonably, his violet eyes scanning over us before returning to the view out the window.

 

“I thought it would always be night here.” I turned to look out at the sun cresting over the mountains.

 

“We're one of the three solar courts. Our nights are far more beautiful, and our sunsets and dawns are exquisite, but we do adhere to the laws of nature.”

 

I looked to Lucien who was far more interested in the tea he was making himself then our conversation, “And the other courts choose not to?”

 

Rhysand's violet eyes focused on me, his hands folding beneath his chin to rest on the table and prop his head up, “the nature of the Seasonal Courts,” he drawled slowly his violet eyes studying me, “is linked to their High Lords, whose magic and will keeps them in eternal spring, or winter, or fall, or summer. It has always been like that – some sort of strange stagnation. But the Solar Courts -Day, Dawn and Night- are of a more....symbolic nature. We might be powerful, but even we cannot alter the sun's path or strength. Tea?”

 

Lucien took his cup and wandered away from the table.

 

The sunlight danced along the curve of the silver teapot. I kept my eager nod to a restrained dip of my chin, my eyes not leaving Rhysand's face, “why is it so warm in here, when the winter is in full blast out there?”

 

“Magic.”

 

“Obviously.” I rolled my eyes, lifting the cup of tea to my lips and taking a sip. I sighed at the heavenly heat and rich flavor, “but _why_?”

 

“You heat a house in the winter-- why shouldn't I heat this place a well? I'll admit I don't know why my predecessors built a palace fit for the Summer Court in the middle of a mountain range that's mildly warm at best, but who am I to question?”

 

That drew an indignant snort from Lucien at the window but Rhys barely paid him any attention. I took a few more sips of my tea, a headache I hadn't noticed before starting to ease, “You've lost weight.” Rhysand noted, his voice too low for Lucien to hear.

 

“You're prone to digging through my head whenever you please,” I said, stabbing a piece of melon with my fork. “I don't see why you're surprised by it.”

 

His heavy gaze didn't lighten, though a smile played about his sensuous mouth, no doubt his favorite mask, “Only occasionally will I do that. And I can't help it if _you_ send things down the bond.” I meet his stare with one of my own.

 

“How does it work? The bond that allows you to see into my head?”

 

He sipped from his cup, “think of the bargain's bond as a bridge between us-- and at either end is a door to our respective minds. A shield. My innate talents allow me to slip through the mental shields of anyone I wish, with or without that bridge – unless they're very, very strong, or have trained extensively to keep those shields tight. As a human, the gates to your mind were flung open for me to stroll through. As a fae...” a little shrug, “sometimes you unwittingly have a shield up, sometimes, when emotion seems to be running strong, that shield vanishes. And when those shields are open, you might as well be standing at the gates to your mind, shouting your thoughts at me. Like yesterday.”

 

“I didn't-.” I paused, hesitating before continuing, “Thank you, for saving us both.”

 

“Anything for you, Feyre, darling.” Rhysand purred. I rolled my eyes, finishing off my tea, “you could train, though. Learn how to shield against someone like me, even with the bond bridging our minds and my own abilities.”

 

“Is that why you brought me here? To train me to keep you out.”

 

“It would be help for me, not having to wake up every night from your nightmares. Wondering if your terror is dream fueled or real. Wondering if you need saving from a shower or yourself. But no, for this week? I want you to learn how to read.”

 

Rhysand had mocked me about it once – had asked me while we were Under the Mountain if forcing me to learn how to read would be my personal idea of torture. I narrowed my eyes at him, but he didn't look phased in the least. I didn't expect much from him.

 

“Why?”

 

“You never know when reading may save your life. Or someone else's.” he cuts a pointed glance to Lucien who stiffened visibly, “don't you agree, Lucien?”

 

“Feyre can do what she wishes, Rhysand. She _is_ a free woman.”

 

“Not if Ianthe had any say in it. She was going to have the two of you wed.” Lucien choked on his tea, eyes bugging out of his head. My stomach dropped, the room spun for a second but quickly righted itself. The idea of her doing that to Lucien – marrying him to a monster like me.

 

“What does reading have to do with that?” I growled angrily, gripping the handle of my tea up bitterly.

 

“What if she had you sign a contract? What would you do to get out of that?” Rhysand countered.

 

I faltered, “what do you get out of it?”

 

“It serves various purposes of mine, of course.” he beamed.

 

“What. Purposes.” was he trying to piss me off?

 

“You'll have to agree to work with me to find out, I'm afraid.” the tea cup shattered in my hand. I dropped to the table, shaking the pieces of porcelain from my hand.

 

“Interesting.” Rhysand mumbled to himself. I raised an eyebrow at him curiously, “has anyone told you that you're rather strong for a High Fae?”

 

Lucien was at my side in an instant, sitting between Rhysand and I like he'd never left, “am I?”

 

“I'll take that as a no. Have you ever tested yourself against another?”

 

“Why would I?” I asked suspiciously.

 

“You were resurrected by the combined power of _seven_ High Lords. If I were you, I'd be curious to see if anything else transferred to me during that process.” Rhysand shrugged, as if observing the weather.

 

My blood chilled, and it was all Rhysand needed, “We haven't noticed anything strange, _High Lord_.” Lucien cut in.

 

“It'd just be rather...interesting if you did.” Rhysand didn't need to say it. He knew something, and if he wanted he could simply pluck it from my mind, or Lucien's.

 

“It didn't, and I'm not going to learn to read or shield with you.” I told him simply.

 

“Why? From spite? I thought you and I got past that Under the Mountain.” he sounded disappointed. Rhys went still before I could respond. “We have company. We can discuss this later.”

 

“No. We wont.” I snapped.

 

Light footsteps sounded down the hall, and then she appeared. If Rhysand was the most beautiful male I'd ever seen, she was his female equivalent. Her bright golden hair was tied back in a casual braid, and the turquoise of her clothes – fashioned like my own – offset her sun-kissed skin, making her practically glow in the morning light.

 

“Hello, hello,” she chirped, her full lips parting in a dazzling smile as her rich brown eyes fixed on me.

 

“Feyre, meet my cousin, Morrigan. Mor, meet the lovely, charming, and _open-minded_ Feyre.” I wished I still had my tea, if only to splash it in his smug face.

 

Mor strode toward me, each step was assured and steady, graceful and grounded. Merry but alert. Someone who didn't need weapons—or at least bother to sheath them at her side. “I've heard so much about you,” she said, and I got to my feet, awkwardly jutting out my hand.

 

She ignored it and grabbed me into a bone-crushing hug. She smelled like citrus and cinnamon. I tried to relax my taut muscles as she pulled away and grinned rather fiendishly, “You look like you were getting under Rhys's skin,” she said, strutting to the seat across from Lucien, “Good thing I came along. Though I'd enjoy seeing Rhys's balls nailed to the wall.”

 

Rhys slid incredulous eyes at her, his brows lifting, “Wouldn't we all, Morrigan.” Lucien drawled lazily, leaning back against his seat back. Mor gave him a weary smile.

 

I didn't bother to hide the smile that tugged on my lips, “It's nice to meet you.”

 

“Liar.” Mor said, pouring herself tea and loading her plate with fruit that I'd been ignoring.

 

“You're...perky today, Mor.” Rhys said.

 

Mor's stunning eyes lifted to her cousin's face. “Forgive me for being excited about having company _for once_.”

 

“You could be attending to your own duties,” he said testily.

 

“I'm just visiting my dear cousin like he said I could.” Mor replied, sweetness lacing her tone, “And what a better time than now, when you brought my new friend to finally meet me? So Feyre, how is Ianthe?” at my scowl she laughed heartily, popping a piece of melon into her mouth. I stared at her, unsure.

 

I blinked, it occurred to me that she was the voice that I'd heard last night. I speared a piece of melon with my fork, “you two look nothing alike.” I observed. Next to me Lucien chuckled, loading his own plate.

 

“Mor is my cousin in the loosest definition,” he said, “but we were raised together, she's my only surviving family.” I didn't want to ask what had happened to everyone else. A small part of my brain reminded me whose father was responsible for the lack of family at my own court.

 

Of course, I was also partially responsible. And it wasn't my court. Not anymore.

 

“As my only remaining family Mor assumes she's entitled to breeze in and out of my life as she sees fit.”

 

“So grumpy.” Mor muttered, grabbing a muffin from the plate suddenly in the center of the table.

 

“I didn't see you Under the Mountain.” the words pass my lips before I can stop them.

 

“I wasn't there, I was-.”

 

“Enough, Mor.” Rhysand commanded, his voice laced with thunder, “She'll be here for the remainder of the week. Perhaps she can help you learn to read. But by all means do not feel inclined to oblige her with your presence.”

 

“Rhys...” Mor sighed, exchanging a look with Lucien.

 

“Have you eaten enough?” Rhysand asked. I nodded, “let's go then. You're first lesson starts now. Lucien feel free to roam as you wish, or keep dear Mor company.”

 

Mor sliced a muffin with a quick sweep of her knife. The angle of her fingers, her wrist confirmed my suspicions that weapons weren't at all foreign to her, “if he pisses you off, Feyre, feel free to shove him over the rail of the nearest balcony.” she didn't look up when she said it, “and if you want company just give a shout.”

 

I nodded and followed Rhysand out, listening to the low rumble of conversation from Lucien and Mor as we departed.

 

\- - -

 

We sat at a long wooden table, Rhysand across from me. I didn't know why he insisted on teaching me himself, as if a High Lord didn't have better things to do than teach me to read, “of course I have better things to do Feyre, but none as enjoyable as seeing you squirm.”

 

“You're a real bastard, you know that?” I snapped testily.

 

“I've been called worse. In fact, I think you've called me worse.” he set a paper in front of me, it was all a blur of letters I only vaguely recognized, “read that.”

 

I stared at it but it made no sense, “I can't.” he shifted it in front of me, tapping the page. I looked at the words, written in elegant print. His writing no doubt, “what do you get out of this? You said you'd tell me.”

 

“Maybe I resent the idea of you letting Ianthe make you feel inadequate. Maybe I enjoy seeing you squirm. Maybe I-.” I held up a hand, I got the idea, “Try to read it, Feyre.” he ordered, his tone soft.

 

I snatched up the paper, holding it in front of me. I looked at the first word, sounding it out in my head, “Y-you...” the next I figured out with a combination of silence pronunciation and logic, “look...”

 

“Good.”

 

“I didn't ask for your approval.” Rhys chuckled, “Absolutely...del...” I deigned to glance at him, brows raised.

 

“Delicious.” Rhysand purred.

 

My brows now knotted, I read the next to words, then the whole sentence again, “ _you look absolutely delicious today, Feyre!_ That's what you wrote?” he leaned back in his seat. As our eyes met, sharp claws caressed my mind and his voice whispered in my mind.

 

_It's true, isn't it?_

 

“Stop that!” those claws dug in, and my entire being gave into his grip, _the fashion of the Night Court suits you._ I couldn't move in my seat, even blink. _This is what happens when you leave your mental shields down. Someone with my sort of powers could slip inside, see what they want, take your mind for their own._

 

Rhysand's nails caressed my mind as he taunted me, telling me to push him out. I ground my teeth, focusing on those claws at point in my mind, shoving each out one at a time. Sweat broke out across my forehead as each claw was retracted until I could move again. I sagged in my chair.

 

“Not yet, Feyre. Keep me out.” a claw slid across my mind, “build a wall.”

 

I picture a wall, a crude thing wrapped around my mind, snapping in place before his claws sink in. I feel Rhys pull away, though I know if he wanted he could break the shield, and sag forward on the table, heaving a great sigh.

 

“Good. Write out your alphabet. And when you finish build up a wall. Stronger than the first. And keep doing this. I'll be back.” he stood up and walked to the door, hands in his pockets.

 

Prick. Prick. Prick.

 

“At least have the decency to only call me a prick when your shields are back up.”

 

 _Bastard._ I smirked at him, smug.

 

 _I'll be back in an hour._ He promised a claw caressing my mind. The door shut solidly behind him. I turned back to my paper, practicing my letters like he'd said. And when I finished I put that wall up and fortified it. Then I tried to hold it as long as possible while I wrote my letters.

 

It was difficult but I got the hang of it quickly.

 

When Rhysand finally returned an hour later I had given up on my letters, instead I was leaning by the window, looking out over the mountain, raising and lowering my shield. I almost missed him coming back in, but I felt the claws in my mind, sliding against the stone of my shields testing for weak spots.

 

I was exhausted but I held it for as long as possible until I felt him pull back, “I'm impressed Feyre. Your letters look amazing. You've made a lot of progress, and with any luck I'll get some sleep tonight.” I scowled at him.

 

“Come on. I'd like to show you something.”

 

-

 

I was mildly curious as we entered a chamber at the top of a tower. There was a large round table in the center of the room, while the wall was covered in a large map of our world. It had been marked and flagged and pinned, for reasons I couldn't tell.

 

My gaze drifted to the windows throughout the room, so many that it felt completely exposed. The perfect home, I supposed, for a High Lord blessed with wings. Rhysand stalked to the table where another map was spread out, dotted with figurines. A map of Prythian – and Hybern.

 

Every court in our land had been marked, along with villages and cities and rivers and mountain passes. Every court...but the Night Court. The vast, northern territory was completely blank, not even a mountain range.

 

It was so...odd.

 

“What do you see?” he asked.

 

“Is this some weird way of getting me to embrace my reading lessons, because I'm on board and completely exhausted...”

 

“Tell me what you see.” he demanded.

 

“A world. Divided in two.” I answered calmly.

 

“And do you think it should remain that way?” he asked.

 

I whipped my head toward him, “My family – .” my tongue tripped over the word.

 

“Your human family.” he finished for me, “would be deeply impacted if the wall came down, wouldn't they? So close to its border. If they're lucky they'll flee across the ocean before it happens.” he looked back down at the map, frowning.

 

“Will it happen?” I asked.

 

“Maybe.” Rhysand said, meeting my gaze.

 

“Why?” I asked, not breaking the stare.

 

“War is coming, Feyre.” the sentence froze my bones.

 

“No. No. No.” I muttered backing away from the table, “Please, Rhys, _no_.”

 

He looked as if I'd slapped him for a split second, then his mouth tightened, “You truly believe me a monster.” I don't know what to say so I don't speak. My heart is pounding in my ears, my sisters, my father, “I am not invading, Feyre.” he said quietly.

 

I waited for him to go on, glad for the spacious room, the bright air, as the ground rushed up to me.

 

“Put your shield up.”

 

I looked inward, the shield was down again, but I was tired and a war was coming, and my family-Nesta, Elain, my father- “ _Shield. Now.”_

 

The raw command in his voice – the voice of the High Lord of the Night Court – had me acting on instinct, my exhausted mind building the wall brick by brick like I'd practiced all day until it was up and I could breathe again, “Did you think it was over, after Amarantha?”

 

“I hoped...Ianthe is so focused on the Heir...” it's all too much for me. I sink to the ground against the wall, my knees tight against my chest.

 

“The King of Hybern has been planning his campaign to reclaim the world south of the wall for over a hundred years,” Rhys told me in a soft voice. He sat down on the floor across from me, crossing his legs, his knees brushed mine. “Amarantha was an experiment – a forty-nine-year test, to see how easily and how long a territory might fall and be controlled by one of his commanders.”

 

“Would he attack Prythian first?”

 

“It is the only thing that stands between the King and the continent.” Rhysand confirmed. He tells me about needing to bring down the wall, going through us to get there, but I'm not really listening so much as hearing. I can't retain it at all.

 

“When?” I managed.

 

“That is the question, and why I brought you here.”

 

“I thought it was because I begged.” I joked. He smiled.

 

“I don't know when or where, or if he has allies here. Cowards who would bow and join him, rather than fight his armies again.” I could have sworn a whisper of darkness spread along the floor behind him.

 

“Did you fight in the War?” I asked.

 

I didn't really think he'd answer, but he nodded, “I was young, by our standards. My father had sent air to the mortal-fae alliance and I convinced him to let me take a legion of our soldiers. I was stationed where the fighting was the thickest. The slaughter was....I have no interest in ever seeing full-scale slaughter like that ever again. Nor do I wish to see another Amarantha.”

 

He thinks the King wont outright announce war. That he'll try to bring the wall down through stealth rather than through war. I didn't understand why he was telling me these things. I asked him so and he looked startled, “because at the end of the week I can take you back to the Spring Court, and I can either leave you there-or you may collect your things and give a formal goodbye to Ianthe, and join the Night Court. Lucien, too. I think Ianthe is too ambitious for her own good, and she may try to use you to her advantage.”

 

“What is your other reason?”

 

“You have a skill set that I need. Rumor has it you caught a Suriel.”

 

“It wasn't that hard.” I protested.

 

“I've tried and failed, twice. But that's a discussion for another day. I saw you trap the Middengard Wyrm like a rabbit. I need you to help me. To use those skills of yours to track down what I need.” Rhysand explained.

 

“What do you need? Whatever was tied to my reading and shielding, I'm guessing. You're using me, just like you say Ianthe might.”

 

“Yes, and no. I wont make you do anything you don't wish. At the end of the week I will take you back to the Spring Court and break the bond, if you chose it. Leave you and Lucien there peacefully. Or you both can join my court. It is up to you. You need sleep, you've got a long week ahead of you.”

 

“What else do you get out of keeping me here? Of me joining your court.” I demanded.

 

“Your powers. Or your potential powers. You and Lucien have probably done a very good job at hiding them from Ianthe, but your powers aren't usually the first indications among our kind that a High Lords son might become his Heir.”

 

“I'm not a High Lord.” I countered.

 

“No, but you were given life by all of us. What if we gave you more than we meant? What if you could hold your own against us, like a High Lady?” he asked.

 

“There are no High Ladies.” Ianthe had told me as much when I wondered what would happen if the Heir was not a boy.

 

Rhys's brows furrowed and he shook his head, getting to his feet. He extended a hand and helped me up, “we'll talk about _that_ later, too. But yes, Feyre, there can be High Ladies. And perhaps you aren't one of them, but what if you were something similar?”

 

He walked me to my room with that final sentence ringing through my head. Neither of us spoke, not even Rhys to bid me goodbye before I shut the door in his face and made my way to the plush bed at the center of the room. Tomorrow I would talk to Lucien, see what he thought of Rhysand's offer, but for tonight I would sleep.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The week was long and as Rhys predicted. I didn't see him very often.

 

He left Lucien and I with instructions for my reading and shielding (I would feel those claws every so often which told me he was still close enough ) and we would work on deep into the afternoon.

 

Then after we would explore Rhysand's home. It seemed like the number of rooms was never ending and just when we thought we'd seen everything we found more. Libraries, bedrooms, a ballroom, and more than a few rooms decorated with elaborate artwork.

 

I missed the days where I would find a room covered wall to wall in artwork mesmerizing. I simply walked out, waiting for Lucien to get his fill and fall back into step beside me. Maybe someday I'd be able to look at artwork again with the same join as once before.

 

At night we'd dine in the same room as our first breakfast, Mor would sometimes join us, sometimes not. Usually she and Lucien would banter back and forth about this or that, but it always seemed forced. Like there was something else behind the scenes that I wasn't privy to.

 

That was probably the case.

 

I didn't really care too much to learn more, my mind was often just trying to distract it self from the horrors of Under the Mountain, and maybe learning more about them might fill my mind, but I couldn't bring myself to ask, all the same.

 

“How is your reading coming along, Feyre?” Mor asked on my last dinner, Ryhs had said he'd be joining us soon but I had no clue when that would be.

 

“Good.” I answered shortly, and then I felt those claws across my shield announcing Rhys' presence in the house.

 

“And your shielding, too, impressive.” Rhys purred. Lucien snarled at him, “you carry her secrets, Lucien, I should be training you too.”

 

“Stay out of my head, Rhysand.” Lucien barked.

 

“Of course.” Rhysand slipped into the chair between Mor and I with more grace than a person, even a fae, should be able to attain, “have either of you thought about my offer? To come live here?”

 

My gaze flickered to Lucien who was staring into his wine goblet. We'd not really touched on the subject, on what it would mean for us, “I'm not sure either of us have come to any sort of decision, High Lord.” Lucien finally offered up, “Either way we would need to return to the Spring Court, either to pack our things or to return to our home. We will have an answer for you in the morning.”

 

Rhysand's gaze lingered on me while Lucien spoke, and I hoped that I kept my face impassive, building up a second layer of the shield around my mind. He turned to his cousin then, losing interest in me.

 

I really wanted to stay, it was peaceful here, and relaxing. My night terrors were easier to deal with when I could wake up and see the stars, to bathe under the night sky. Nuala and Cerridwen would sometimes appear in on the bad nights and run me a bath that eased me back into a dreamless sleep.

 

There was still apart of me that wanted to go back and finish helping rebuild the Spring Court. At least those outside of Tamlin's old home. But I am not ready to face the Spring Court without Tamlin again, even with Lucien at my side.

 

“I'm not feeling so hungry. If you'll excuse me..” I pushed away from the table without waiting, Mor watched me go the entire time until the door shut behind me. Rhys' claws scraped against my shields, but it was more of a comfort than trying to break through.

 

In my room I walked the the window, curling up beneath it with a blanket I'd dragged over days before. The night court was breath taking, especially in the setting sunlight. The snow dusted mountain tops sparkled like fiery jewels as the sun sank below them.

 

For the first time in a long time my mind wondered what I might use to paint them, but the thought was gone as quickly as it had come and I turned my eyes to my knees, pulling them up toward my chest. Lucien joined me shortly after the sun had completely vanished from the sky, settling on the other end of the lounge chair and pulling the blanket over his legs.

 

“You want to stay.” Lucien whispered.

 

“Part of me does, yes.” I murmured, “Rhys...he thinks something bad is coming.”

 

“He is probably not wrong. Ianthe...she has been keeping many secrets from me. Her tower room is locked and guarded heavily. It would be wise to have a home, to have someone besides each other. I may not like Rhysand for a host of reasons, but I can tell he cares about your well-being.”

 

“He may be using us.”

 

“He's pretty up front about that, Feyre.” Lucien chuckled, “He is the most powerful High Lord, and not just because of his magic.”

 

“Amaranth-.”

 

“Cheated. Manipulated. Don't think he'll let that happen twice.” Lucien countered, “we have no home Feyre.”

 

“We have each other.” I murmured seeing it for the weak excuse that it was, “Do you want to stay, too?”

 

“Yes. I am thankful for the peace being here has brought-to both of us.” Lucien bumped my knee with his own, “I think that this is the safest place for you to be...with your talents.”

 

“Ianthe will be angry.” I grinned, genuinely for the first time since Under the Mountain. Lucien grinned back, and for a moment I have hope that the world might get better soon.

 

-

 

Lucien and I talk most of the night, random tidbits of information from life and musings. About my powers, about Ianthe, about war, about nothing important at all. It is peaceful, and when we eventually drifted off to sleep neither of us woke to nightmares, only to the warm of sunlight on our cheeks and snow on our lashes.

 

We go our separate ways to change and head down to breakfast. Mor is grinning from ear to ear when we walk in, Rhysand sitting beside her looking equally pleased, “you are an insufferable ass, Rhysand.” I told him, settling into my chair.

 

“You need to keep your shield up.” is all he said in response.

 

“Ass.” I repeated, settling into my hair across from Mor. Lucien sat in his seat across from Rhys, “We will need to gather our things-make a formal departure as you suggested? Drop us off and come back in an hour?”

 

“Of course.” Rhysand nodded, “you will be joining my court, my inner circle, are you sure you really want that?”

 

“Yes.” Lucien and I answered in sync, “we have no home, but being here is peaceful. Feyre and I could use that-if only for a small while.”

 

“So this has nothing to do with Feyre's gifts?” Mor asked, eyes studying Lucien's reaction while Rhys's dark eyes studied me for any reaction. But we covered this and both maintained an even expression.

 

“No more than Rhysand's interest is about them.” I countered, meeting his gaze, “You asked about them when we first got here, so when we're free of the Spring Court you can ask your questions.”

 

“You trust us that much?”

 

“I trust you more than Ianthe. You helped me save Lucien, you _saved_ me. More than once. You already knew that the day that I was reborn that I was the one that...darkness was coming from. You did not tell anyone, or else I would likely be dead.” I told him firmly.

 

“Darkness?” Mor asked, cutting a sideways glance at her cousin.

 

Rhys' gaze did not leave me, “When Feyre realized what had happened, to her and Tamlin, she shrouded the room in darkness. The same darkness I can wield. I let everyone believe I had done it, sensing her fear through the bond I'd forced on her, and trying to keep her calm. They mostly bought it, except for this one.” he inclined his chin towards Lucien.

 

Mor made a face, one I did not know her well enough to interpret before shrugging her shoulder casually, “This is certainly going to be interesting.” there was a twinkle to her brown eyes that almost looked like amusement.

 

“So, what exactly does leaving a court look like?”

 

“You will leave with two members of the Court you are moving to, of your own will, and that's about it.” Mor shrugged, “although I'm sure Ianthe will make it a spectacle. Try to say Rhys is controlling you or some nonsense.”

 

I was sure that was _exactly_ what she was going to do.

 

We finished our breakfast in relative silence after that, only the sound of scraping utensils and chewing filling the room. I would never get used to being able to hear each and every bite someone took of their food, the sound of them swallowing it.

 

Mor noticed, I could tell from the strange look that crossed her face and melted into something like understanding, and she gave me a small smile. I tried to return it, but I couldn't quite manage it sincerely.

 

Mor simply winked and went back to her food.

 

Once we were done eating Rhys returned us to the Spring Courts borders, he an Lucien had a quick conversation before Rhys was gone again, leaving the two of us staring up at the place we once called home.

 

“Ready, Feyre?”

 

“As ready as I'm going to be.” I affirmed. With that we both headed inside.

 

Ianthe was on us immediately, grabbing me by the shoulders and checking me over for any injuries, “Feyre, I'm so sorry, I should have stopped him. I'm so glad you're okay, he didn't hurt you did he? Feyre...”

 

I shrugged her off gently, easing myself out of her reach, “I'm fine. I'm just going to go to my room and clean up. If you don't mind.” Ianthe frowned, blue eyes searching across me and then Lucien.

 

“Okay.” she finally whispered, stepping back and letting us both pass.

 

My room was how I left it. Seeing it now, after being gone for a week, was shocking. It looked like a rats den, like they'd sometimes make in the roof during winters. The clothes I'd been wearing for the entire time I'd been here hadn't been picked up.

 

I almost didn't hear Alis come in, “You make such a mess, I figured you could clean it up before you go.”

 

“Before I...” I cut myself off, “yes I will.”

 

Alis nodded and then quickly left the room. Somehow she always knew things.

 

I picked up the clothes from the floor, piling them by the doorway to the bath, and remade the bed that hadn't been made in months. After that I went through and packed up the few things that were mine and carried them over to Lucien's room. He added them into his things without a word.

 

“Are you ready for this?” Lucien asked, “is there anything else you want before we leave?”

 

“I just need...I'll meet you down stairs in an hour?” I motioned toward Tamlin's old room.

 

“Of course.” Lucien disappeared into his bath chamber and I headed back out his door to Tamlin's room.

 

I hadn't stepped foot in here since the day I'd returned from under the mountain. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for the door knob. I turned it slowly, releasing a breath, and pushed the door in. It creaked as it opened, and again as I shut it behind me, closing with a loud click.

 

The first thing I noticed was the smell, the room was like walking into his arms, strong and tight around me. So strong now that it had me crashing to my knees, my face buried in my hands. The sobs that ripped through me were stronger than anything I'd ever experienced.

 

A soft pulsing from the tattoo on my hand slowly calmed my sobs, and I worked on making sure those bricks were solidly in place, both for my benefit and Rhys'. I got to my feet, heading deeper into the room. There was a shirt on the floor that still smelled like him, I picked it up off of the floor and made my way to his bed, snuggling down onto it.

 

His scent wrapped around me, lulling my brain into relaxation. I closed my eyes, twisted around his pillows, and slowly breathed in and out. I must've fallen asleep at some point, because there was a sharp knock on the door and then a sharp pull in my stomach.

 

“I'm up, I'm up...” I slid out of the bed, grabbing the shirt and taking it to the door with me. Lucien was standing outside with our bags, “Can you put this...”

 

“Of course.” He took the shirt and gently folded it up, placing it into the top of my bag, “are you ready for this?”

 

“As I'm going to be.” I whispered. He grabbed my arm, giving it a quick squeeze, and pulling Tamlin's door shut behind me. We both stopped at the top of the stairs, Ianthe's voice rang up from somewhere nearby, laughing at something.

 

“So who is Rhysand sending to pick us up, exactly?”

 

“Mor and one of the other members of his inner circle. Azriel, I believe.” Lucien whispered, “Come on, they should be here soon. Tell Rhysand it's time.”

 

I closed my eyes, taking a single brick away from that wall, _now_ I shouted down the bond and then shut it right back up. Lucien tucked my arm into his and we made our way down the stairs and into the dining room where Minerva and Ianthe were having an early lunch, both looked up with surprise on their face to see us.

 

“Ianthe, it is time for me to take my leave. I am leaving to join the Night Court, as a part of Rhysand's council.” he gave my hand a squeeze where it rested on his arm.

 

“Ianthe, it is time for me to take my leave. I am leaving to join the Night Court, as part of Rhysand's council.” I gripped his arm tightly, anger curled up on her usually sweet face a snarl on her tongue.

 

“I see we're ready to take our leave then.” Mor's voice rang through the entry way, two servants held the doors open to allow them in. She was flanked by a man with a set of _massive_ wings tucked in tight against his powerful muscled body. He was wearing dark plated leather that ran down his arms and over his hands to two gauntlets that each held two cobalt stones.

 

He was an imposing sight to see.

 

“What did Rhysand do?” Ianthe snarled, storming past Lucien and I in the doorway and towards Mor. The man that was with her, Azriel I assumed, stepped forward slightly. Not quite in front of Mor, but ready to block her if needed.

 

“He didn't do a thing, Ianthe.” I told her, stepping away from Lucien's side. My hands were shaking at my sides and I had to take a deep breath to calm myself, “I can't be here, surrounded by this. By him. And you and your parties for this _heir_ are not making things easier on me. _I want to leave_ so I am _going_ to leave.”

 

Lucien shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled around Ianthe like he was strolling through the gardens, taking a spot next to Mor. I strolled to Azriel's side and turned to face Ianthe. She may have been able to control the rage on her face, but her blue eyes were blazing with fury.

 

“This is what you wanted, Ianthe. The Spring Court.” Lucien told her, “Tamlin was my family, and I can't stay and watch you ruin his court.”

 

Silence stretched between everyone. Minerva was standing by the dining room, one hand on her stomach, watching Ianthe and the servants. Alis was beside the stairs, smiling at me, I wished I didn't have to leave.

 

“Alright, now that that's settled.” Mor hook her arm through Lucien's, an odd look crossed her face, and turned to walk back out the door. Azriel offered me his arm silently. I tucked my arm into his, eyeing the cobalt stones on his hand and we walked outside, across the court yard, and out of the Spring Court.

 

“We'll see you there.” Mor grinned, winnowing away. Lucien disappeared with her.

 

Azriel looked down at me, hazel eyes searching my face, “Are you ready?”

 

I turned to look over her shoulder, back at the mansion, _Goodbye Tamlin._ Tears burned my eyes again but I didn't want to cry them, not in front of Ianthe who was watching at the door, “Yes, I am ready.”

 

Azriel wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side, and then we were gone. When the world came back around us we were back in the Night Court. Rhysand was standing before us, dazzling smile on his face, “Feyre, darling, welcome home.” Rhysand purred.

 

“Ass.” I muttered, though it was very halfhearted, but the relief flooding through the bond wasn't only my own.

 

Mor's laughter carried down the hallway, though I couldn't see her, “I've got a few meetings to attend to, so Mor and I will not be around the palace. Nuala and Cerridwen will be available. And you can always reach me through our bond.”

 

“Good to know.” I pulled away from Azriel's side and headed down the hallway toward my room, pausing before I left the main room, “Thank you, Azriel.” he gave me a short nod and then vanished.

 

I made my way down the hallway slowly, my foot steps light as I headed into my room. The room smelled like lavender and snow, a smile bloomed across my face. I unpacked the few things I'd brought with me into the wardrobe and flopped back into my bed, sighing.

 

The week was long, and mostly boring, spent with Lucien in the library reading and practicing my shielding. It was easier as the days went by, Rhys would still check in randomly, claws dragging across the shield.

 

Once in awhile I'd let it down, feel him slip in and then force him back out. I could feel his amusement through our bond. While the nightmares had certainly decreased there were still nights when the terrors would scare me out of my bed, and tonight was one of those nights.

 

A soft knock at my door broke the silence of my bedroom after one of those terrors had me screaming awake. I looked around the room, fingers itching for any sort of weapon, but found none. A soft stroking caress across my shields told me who was behind the door, “Come in.” I whispered.

 

Rhysand opened the door silently and slipped in.

 

He was in his night clothes, a pair of dark silky pants and a button up shirt that was not buttoned, “Are you okay, Feyre?”

 

“I will be.” I whispered, wiping my hand across my cheeks, “I just feel like...I'm still under the mountain. And I can't get out and it's all...sometimes I'm just in that pit and you're not there, and Lucien...and then I wake up screaming and I can't remember where I am. It feels like she has me all over again.”

 

Rhysand moved over to the window, leaning against it to look out over the Night Court.

 

“I feel that way too, sometimes. I was trapped down there for so long....being back here in my own bed I still sometimes forget where I am. I'll wake up and hear a noise and think she's coming for me. I don't sleep often.”

 

“Thought that was my fault.” I joked, pulling the blankets up a little farther on my lap.

 

Rhysand turned to me, dark eyes searching my face for something, “Mostly just worry that kept me up, as far as you were concerned.” he shifted so he was leaning against the window watching me.

 

“Why?” my voice barely came out, but I forced myself to hold his gaze.

 

“The answer to that Feyre, darling, would take far too long.” My cheeks warmed and I turned my gaze back to where my fingers were fiddling with the blanket on my lap, “we should start practicing with your abilities. I smelled the smoke yesterday.”

 

“Sorry about that.”

 

“Nothing we can't fix.” Rhysand shrugged, “A warm bath helps usually. You should try that.”

 

“Is that what you usually do?” I mumbled, eyeing the tub. But, no, a bath would not help tonight.

 

“I usually go flying.” Rhys answered.

 

“Is that why you really want me to take a bath, under the stars?”

 

Rhys' bark of laughter made my heart feel lighter in my chest, “what is flying like?”

 

“Freedom.” Rhysand answered, “I think it's something you have to experience. I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight. Care to take a walk?”

 

“I'm not dressed for adventures.” I muttered.

 

“I'm sure you have a pair of Tamlin's pants somewhere. I'll wait in the hall.” Rhysand cross the room in a few strides, shutting it gently behind him. I stared at the shut door for a few moments before finally giving in and sliding out of the bed.

 

I found a pair of pants that fit me well enough to stay up and a pair of shoes for my cold feet. Rhysand was leaning next to Lucien's door when I stepped outside, picking at his nails, “Where are we going?” I asked, shutting my door behind me.

 

“For a walk, Feyre.” Rhysand answered, offering me his arm.

 

I hesitated before putting my arm through his and heading off toward the main hallway. While we walked neither of us spoke. Rhysand was occasionally attempting to bust down the shields around my mind but to no success, “You've done really well with the shields. But you should really train Lucien.”

 

“He doesn't want you in his head.”

 

“I have a theory that my...darkness wasn't all you inherited. Have you ever slipped into someones mind on accident?”

 

“I-maybe. Nothing really...I don't know how.” Rhysand nodded slowly, and turned until we entered a room I hadn't been inside of yet.

 

It was mostly empty, with large windows that looked out over the mountains. He sat down in the center of the room and motioned for me to do the same. Curiously I walked over and sat down across from him. The claws were scratching against my wall, “I want you to try and push back against me, with claws of your own. Close your eyes and picture it.”

 

The thought of trying to replicate the claws I felt was...crazy. But I closed my eyes anyways, and felt for those claws, digging into the softer parts of my shield. I imagined long claws, strong and thick, jutting out of my mind at the points of his. I heard Rhys' surprised sound when my mental claws hit his. Fighting him out of my head.

 

“Good...now follow them back to where they started.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a break for awhile from writing, but I had this chapter half done and I needed something to funnel all of my energy into. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

~ ~ ~

It had been a month since Lucien and I had left the Spring Court. Most of our days were spent going over my reading, Lucien teaching me the history of the courts, and me teaching Lucien how to shield his mind. 

Over dinner Rhys would try to break through both of our shields at random, sometimes only playfully poking at the shield to get our guard down and then busting through. Other times he'd go straight for slamming his claws into them.

He must've been satisfied at our progress, if not a bit smug about Lucien actually learning, because he never once commented on our progress. It was early one morning when I woke from a bad terror, scream clawing its way out of my throat. I counted to ten, braced my forehead against my knees, and worked myself through the breathing Mor had taught me.

The quaking eased from my limbs until I was able to make my way out of bed and into the warm bathtub. I laid in their for a few hours, the warmth easing into my muscles. Once I felt like I might be able to fall asleep again, I grabbed a fluffy towel to wrap myself in and huddled back under the covers until sun rise.

Nuala and Cerridwen came in just after sunrise with clothes and brushes. They fused with my hair for longer than usual with no explanation. Once they were done they disappeared like usual, leaving me to head to breakfast alone.

Lucien was already in the dining room, a book in one hand and a glass of tea in the other. He was sitting as still as a portrait and with the sunlight streaming in behind him, making his red hair glow like a halo around his head.

“You know it's not polite to stare.” Lucien commented, not bothering to look at me.

“I was just considering what color paints to mix to create the light around your hair...” I trailed off, realizing what I'd just said. 

“Well....by all means keep looking.” Lucien's eyes cast back down to his book but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

So I did, imagining what paints to swirl together. Maybe some day I'd actually want to pick up the paint brush again. I still wasn't ready for that, not quite yet, but it was still nice to look at his hair and not see Amarantha. 

“So what are the plans for the day?”

“Ask our High Lord. He's asked for us to pack our bags to go somewhere top secret.” Lucien shrugged one shoulder. 

“I'll never tired of hearing you call me that, Lucien.” Rhysand chuckled. I turned in time to catch him coming through the doorway, smirk on his face, “it's a shame Feyre wont give me the same pleasure.”

“Never, Rhysand.” I teased, “Where are you taking us?”

“It wouldn't be top secret if I just went around telling everyone about it.” Rhysand pulled out a chair and sat down across from Lucien, turning towards me, “don't worry you'll like this surprise. I know you've been dying to explore more of our beautiful court.”

My heart stuttered in my chest, “Well I mean-.” 

“Not to the Court of Nightmares, Feyre.” Rhysand assured me, through his words and through our bond, “I promised I would not take you there, I meant it.”

I nodded carefully, still unable to drag myself away from images of Under the Mountain, “when do we leave?” 

“Once you've packed up for good. We're not going to be returning here for awhile. I've given you and Lucien and month to get your barrings, but I'm afraid there is a lot that we need to do. But we cannot do them here.” 

“Will Mor be there?” I asked, grabbing a biscuit from the center of the table.

“Unfortunately, yes. And you'll be able to meet the rest of my inner circle.” Rhysand informed me. I glanced to Lucien who looked less than enthused at the prospect of seeing his Inner Circle, “try not to look so glum, Lucien.”

Lucien turned his eyes back to his book, setting his tea down on the table, “I'll go get packing then, leave you and Feyre to talk.” he closed his book and set it on the table, walking out of the room quickly. Rhys smiled and watched him walk away.

“What do we need to talk about without Lucien in the room?” I asked casually, looking down at my food and not at him.

“Training. And I'm not just talking about your magical training. I want you to be able to protect yourself against an attack if one of us is not with you. I just want to make sure you can take care of yourself.” 

“I can barely walk in this new body and you want me to learn to fight?”

“Fighting will help you learn to control your body as well.” 

“And who will teach me? You?” I asked, picking at my food.

“No. As delightful as that may be, I am not the right person to train you to fight. I will introduce you tonight at dinner. It is not mandatory of course, but I hate the thought of you being defenseless.” Rhysand stared me down, gaze burning a hole in the top of my head until I looked up to catch his eyes, “it may also help with the nightmares. Perhaps you can carry your training Under the Mountain with you.”  
He held my gaze with a somber expression for longer than I was comfortable, but I could not bring myself to look away, “will we start training with my abilities too?”

“Yes. But I want you in fighting shape first. Your abilities will draw a lot of power out of you. Like when we were practicing with your shielding. You slept very well most days because you were exhausted. I do not want to keep doing that.”

“Okay. That seems reasonable.” I agreed, picking up a muffin and tearing a bite off of it, “When will you tell me your plans?”

“When we're in a space that I trust.” Rhys answered cryptically, “finish your breakfast and pack your things. I will come get you when you are both ready.”

He vanished from the room before I could say anything else, something he enjoyed doing way too often. I rolled my eyes and finished my breakfast silently, taking the long path back to my room to pack up. 

I still didn't have much. Mor had brought me new clothes when I got here and I had the few things I brought from the Spring Court, but it all fit into one small bag. Lucien met me at the door with two bags of his own and we headed down to the foyer where I knew Rhys would be waiting for us.

Lucien went to his left side and I went to his right. Lucien was winnowed first and then Rhys came back for me, “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” I took his hand without hesitation into my own, something in his eyes flickered- I could almost call it hope- and then darkness wrapped around us as Rhys winnowed us to his secret place. Sunlight blinded me momentarily when we arrived, and as my eyes adjusted I realized I was in the foyer of someones house.

“Welcome to Velaris, the City of Starlight.” Rhys beamed.

I looked around the foyer, taking a step away from Rhys to get a better view. Ornate red carpet cushioned under my feet, melding into the warm wood-paneled walls. The oak staircase directly ahead of me was lined with beautiful artwork.

Flanking us were two rooms: on my left a sitting room with black marble fireplace and lots of comfortable elegant furniture. Bookshelves were built into every wall and full of many books. On my right was a dining room with a long cherry wood table, big enough for ten people-call compared to the dining room at the manor.

Down the narrow hallway ahead were a few more doors, ending in one that I assumed would lead to a kitchen. This was a town house. I had visited one once, when I was a child. My father had brought me along to see a client. It had smelled like coffee and mothballs. It was stuffy and formal and I squirmed the entire time we were in there, eager to escape.

This house was different. It smelled warm and welcoming. It was a home, a real home that was lived in and cherished, “would you like to explore the city, Feyre?” Rhysand asked.

“The city?” I asked, dropping my bag in shock.   
“Yes.” I looked at the ornate door behind him, with fogged glass that led into an antichamber that held the actual front door. The only things stopping me from seeing this city, one Amarantha had likely destroyed during her reign.

“What is this place?” I asked, dragging my eyes back to Rhys.

“This is my home. Well, one of my homes. I have two in the city, one for more official business. But this one is my home. Only for me and my family.” the word held a heavy tone that made my stomach turn and my heart flutter.

“And Lucien and I?” I barely choked the words out.

“You are part of my family now, Feyre. Both of you.” He reached out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, “Welcome home, Feyre.” 

“Rhys....” I couldn't look at him, everything was overwhelming me all at once. It was too much. I glanced around, desperate for any distraction.

“Nuala and Cerridwen are here,” he said, reading me as easily as a book, “and Lucien. We will be the only ones here.”

That was good, less people to wake in the middle of the night. I hoped Nuala and Cerridwen were heavy sleepers. Though my nightmares had become easier to come out of there were still a few that had me screaming awake.

Rhysand opened his mouth, but then the silhouettes of two tall, powerful bodies appread on the other side of the front doors fogged glass. One of them banged on it with a fist.

“Hurry up, you lazy ass.” a deep male voice drawled from the antechamber beyond. I could make out wings in their silhouettes. Perhaps one of the males was Azriel. Rhysand didn't so much as blink towards the door, “Two things, Feyre darling.”

“If you're going to pick a fight with him, do it after breakfast.” the voice was cold, like shadows given form. Dark and smooth, it was Azriel.

“I wasn't the one who hauled me out of bed just now to fly down here,” the first one said, and then added, “busybody.”

“No one, no one, but Mor and I are able to winnow directly inside this house. It is warded, shielded and thenw arded some more. Only those I wish- and you wish- may enter. You are safe here; safe anywhere in this city, for that matter. Velaris's walls are well protected and have not been breached in five thousand years. On one with ill intent enters this city unless I allow it. 

So go where you wish, do what you wish, and see who you wish. Those two in the antechamber might not be on that list of people you should bother knowing beyond their names, if they keep banging on the door like children.” he stated curtly.

Anther pound, emphasized by the first male voice saying, “You know we can hear you, prick.” I liked him already.  
“Secondly, in regard to those two bastards at my door, its up to you whether you want to officially meet them now or head upstairs like a wise person to rest, you look like you've had quite enough for the hour, and then change into city-appropriate clothing while I beat the hell out of one of them for talking to his High Lord like that.”

His words were less harsh when you saw the light in his eyes, that made him look younger and more mortal. More human, “I will go change. I do want to explore this city of yours.” I told him, “I'm sure I'll meet them soon enough, as it is.”

The light dimmed a fraction in his eyes, but he didn't look too upset. I reached down and grabbed my bag, just as a new voice drifted through the door, “You Illyrians are worse than cats yowling to be let in the back door.” the knob jangled followed by a sharp sigh, “Really, Rhysand? You locked us out?”

Did they not know that he was bring us here? It seemed as if he had planned to come home, but not with us. I studied him for a second, but unlike me he was unreadable, “Come get me when they're gone? I assume you want to join Lucien and I on our first outting.”

“If Lucien wishes to tag along that is fine, but I only wish to accompany you, Feyre darling.” he purred.

“Well, I will see you when they are gone then.” with that I turned sharply on my heel to head up the stairs and out of the path of the two strangers and Azriel at the door. At the top of the stairs stood Nuala and Cerridwen, wincing at the front door. I could have sworn Cerridwen subtly gestured me to hurry up.

I might have kissed both twins for that bit of normalcy. And I could have kissed Rhys, too, for waiting to open the front door until I was halfway down the cerulean-blue hallway on the second level. All I heard was that first male voice declare, “Welcome home, bastard,” followed by Azriel, “I sensed you were back. Mor filled me in, and I picked her up, but-.”

That strange female voice cut him off, “Send your dogs out in the yard to play, Rhysand. You and I have matters to discuss.”

“As do I.”

Then the cocky one drawled to her, “we were here first. Wait your turn, Tiny Ancient One.”

On either side of me, Nuala and Cerridwen flinched, either from holding in laughter or some vestige of fear, or perhaps both. Definitely both as a feminine snarled sliced through the house-however halfheartedly.

The upstairs hall contained a few doors and chandeliers of swirled, colored glass. It was very beautiful craftsmanship, bouncing colorful light on the polished doors. I wondered which belonged to Rhys and then wondered which belonged to Mor as I heard her voice amid the fray below:

“Why is everyone here so early? I thought we were meeting tonight at the House.” 

Below Rhysand grumbled-actually grumbled- “Trust me, there's no party. Only a massacre if Cassian doesn't shut his mouth.” I barely contained my giggle at the affectionatly annoyed tone Rhysand used.

“We're hungry,” Cassian complained, “feed us. Someone told me there'd be breakfast.” I stopped listening the best I could, focusing on Nuala and Cerridwen opening a door that led to a fire-warmed sunlit room. It faced a walled, winter-kissed garden in the back of the town house.” the large windows looked right down over the sleeping stone fountain in its center, no doubt drained for the season.

Everything in the bedroom itself was of rich wood and soft white, with touches of subtle sage. It felt, strangely enough, almost human. Wonderful in its normalcy. The bed was big and plush, it looked absolutely heavenly and I could not wait to sleep in it, but that could wait until later.

I turned to the twins as they shut the door firmly behind us, finally obstructing the conversation downstairs to a quite rumble, “who was that? The inner circle?”

Nuala nodded as she headed for the small attached bathroom-white marble, a clawfoot tub, and more windows that overlooked the garden wall. A thick line of cypress trees stood behind it, creating just enough privacy for a bathroom.

Cerridwen, already stalking for the armoire, cringed a bit, “yes. That is the inner circle.”

“I wasn't aware High Lords kept things so casual. I know with Mor-she's family, but his inner cirlce...”

“High Lords dont. But Rhysand does.” Nuala said, returning with a brush in her hand. Had winnowing truly done my hair that much damage? Nuala led me to a chair overlooking the garden. The beautifully kept garden.

Untouched. Undamaged. Rhysand's earlier words clicked into place, “How is this city here?” I asked, “how did it survive?”

Nuala's face tightened, her dark eyes flicked to her twin, who slowly rose from a dresser drawer dropping the clothes in her hand. She straightened her back and swallowed hard, “The High Lord is very powerful, and was devoted to his people long before his fathers mantle passed to him.”

“How?” I repeated. A city, a lovely one from the sounds coming in through the windows, survived untouched and whole while the rest of the world had been left to ruin. The twins refused to answer, and I shouldn't have expected more. Rhysand trusted his people, and for good reason, “I suppose that is a question for him, then? He has asked you not to tell me?”

“No. The High Lord made no such demand. But what he did to shield this city is his story to tell, not ours. We would be more comfortable if he told you, lest we get anything wrong.” Cerridwen studied me for a few moments but I nodded to her-I would ask Rhys myself. He was generally forthcoming, “what color would you like to wear, Feyre?”

“You have a better idea of suitable than I do, you two may pick.” they brightened at that and Cerridwen went to picking through the wardrobe while Nuala brushed my hair out into soft waves and slowly wove my hair into a neat braid.

In the end I was in a pair of warm brown pants, a soft cream sweater, and suede navy shoes. They laid out a coat for me to go out in along with knitted gloves that matched the shoes, “Lucien is next door, reading, let us know if you need anything else.”

“I will. Thank you.” I watched them disappear down the stairs before heading into Lucien's room. He was sitting beside a window flanked by a cypress tree, nose in a book. His golden eye whirled around toward me but he did not lift his head as I crossed the room to fold myself onto the window seat beside him.

“Rhysand has kept this place a secret from everyone, Feyre.” he told me, still focused on the pages, “no other High Lords know of this place. I've never even heard a rumor of it. Protected for five thousand years. He must really trust you, to let me in too.”

I bit my lip, eyes flickering to the tree outside, “He must trust you, too, Lucien. The both of us, without Tamlin, with nowhere to go. We were looking for a home, and I think he wants to give us one. With him, or just here in his city.”

“I think I would like that.” Lucien closed the book on his lap, “I miss him dearly, but perhaps here I can forget the things that hurt and remember only the good memories.” 

“I'm sure you have far more good memories.” I whispered, chewing on the inside of my lip until I tasted blood.

“I promise, we will make good memories Feyre. I will not let anything else terrible happen to you. To us.”

“Don't make promises you cannot keep, Lucien.”

“I fully intend to keep this one. And I'll take out anyone who threatens it, including Rhysand's inner circle if it comes to it.” I smiled at him, and for once it didn't feel force. Imagining Lucien trying to take on those two I'd seen in the antechamber was enough to have me laughing so hard my sides hurt.

“You know I should feel insulted.” Lucien mused, giving my hip a light nudge with his foot, “but it is nice to hear you laugh.”

“It is nice to laugh. To feel free.” I admitted, “a city that's been safe for over 5000 years. I wonder what it must be like.” I dropped a brick from my wall to reach out to Rhys, but all I felt was a sense of frustration and adoration. His inner circle was still here. 

“Maybe I should have taken a nap before dressing. I don't know how long they'll be here.” 

“Mor is shooing them off now.” Lucien shrugged, “I heard the front door open.” I frowned and strained to listen, but I could hear feet shuffling and protesting voices as well. Then a cheerful goodbye from Mor. 

“I'll go get my jacket. Then. And let you change.” 

-

I beat Lucien downstairs where Rhysand was waiting for us beside the front door which had been left open to the antechamber, that door was also open, leading out to the city. “Lucien better hurry up, you look like you're ready to burst if you do not get out in the next second. We can wait for him outside, if you'd like?”  
I didn't need more than that, I quickly stepped past him into the antechamber, steadying myself as I approached the door that led outside. Buttery sunlight softened the already mild winter day bathed across a small manicured front lawn that's grass was nearing white. The yard was bordered with a waist-high wrought iron fence and empty flower beds, all leading toward a clean street of pale cobblestones. 

High Fae in various forms of dress meandered by: some in coats like mine to ward against the crisp air, some wearing mortal fashions, some wearing riding leathers. None seemed in a hurry to be anywhere at all. And not even one of them looked toward the house, or the High Lord standing behind me where I'd stepped out onto the porch. Identical town homes lined the street, each with green cooper roofs and pale chimneys that puffed tendrils of smoke into the brisk sky.

In the distance my ears picked up children shrieking with laughter.

“Are those children?” Lucien asked, disbelief tinging his voice.

“Yes.” Rhysand answered, pulling the door shut behind Lucien, “Are we ready?”

“Yes.” Lucien and I made our way to the fence together. Unlatching it and pushing it aside to burst onto the street. I reached out and grasped Lucien's forearm, breath catching in my throat, “the sea...”

The city had been built like a crust atop the rolling steep hills that flanked the river, the buildings crafted from white marble or warm sandstone. Ships with various shapes and colors of sails loitered in the river, the white wings of birds shining brightly above them in the midday sun.

Amaranth had never made it here. This place was untouched, preserved perfectly. Even during the height of her power, whatever Rhys had done had kept this place safe. She had truly never touched it. Rhysand had protected this place so thoroughly it appeared they hadn't even known what was happening.

I turned to take in the other end of the street.

A wall of flat topped mountains of red stone, the same stone that had been used to build some of the structures. They curved around the northern edge of Velaris, to where the river bent toward them and flowed into their shadow. To the north, different mountains surrounded the city across the river. Sharp peaks like fishes teeth cleaved the city's merry hills from the sea beyond. 

But the mountains behind us, they stood like Guardians, sleep giants, somehow alive, awake. Protecting this city for Rhysand. As if in answer, that undulating, slithering power slide along my bones, like a cat brushing against my legs for attention. 

I looked to Rhysand, unsure, “The middle peak. That is my other home in this city. The House of Wind.” he pointed toward the largest of the plateaus. Holes and windows seemed to have been built into the uppermost part of it. And flying toward it, borne on large dark wings, were two figures. They seemed to be fling on a wicked fast current.

“We'll be dining there tonight.” he told us.

I nodded, turning back to the sea, “One day, I will need you to explain how this place remained safe while others were destroyed.” I wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that Rhysand had this peace of paradise hidden away while so many were killed and destroyed by that vile creature. While I was trapped Under the Mountain fighting for my life. But if there was one thing I'd learn is that there was always a price and always a reason.

“So what's there that was worth saving at the cost of everyone else?”

 

When I faced him, his blue eyes were as ruthless as the churning winter sea, “Everything.”

Rhysand gave us the grand tour of Velaris, which was truly everything he made it sound like. We stopped at the artists quarter. While I think of mixing paints and wonder what it would take to recreate the sun in Lucien's hair I still wasn't ready.

“It is almost time for dinner, we should return to the house so you can get ready. I'm sure Nuala and Cerridwen already have outfits picked out for the both of you. They love to fuss.” 

“I don't much enjoy picking out my own attire, so I appreciate them both.” I needed all of the help I could get making myself worth looking at, “who all will be at dinner? Besides us three.”

“The inner circle. You've met Mor, and Azriel briefly. But I'd like you to formally meet everyone before you agree to work with us. And you'll meet Cassian, who I want to train you in combat.” Lucien reached the door first, opening it to let me and Rhysand in ahead of him.

“There is one small flaw. You cannot Winnow into the House of Wind.” Lucien shook his head in disbelief, heading up the stairs, “the only options are to fly or walk up ten thousand steps.”

“Unbelievable.” I muttered, “you better not drop me, prick.” I told him before marching up the stairs. 

*`~`*

We stood atop the town houses small rooftop garden, my hands were shoved deep in my pockets to warm them against the cold bite of the night air. There was room enough for a few boxed shrubs and a round iron table with two chairs-and me and Rhysand.

Around us the city twinkled, the stars themselves seeming to hand lower, pulsing with ruby and amethyst and pearl. Above, the full moon set the marble of the buildings and bridges glowing as if they were all lit from within.

Mustic played, strings and gentle drums, and on either side of the Sidra, golden lights bobbed over the riverside walks ways dotted with cafes and shops, all open for the night, already packed. The city was so full of life, pulsing with it.

Clothed in black accented with silver thread, Rhysand leaned onto the railing beside him. He rustled his massive wings behind me, stretching them out, “How long as it been since you've carried someone and flown?” I asked.

“A long time, Feyre. But I promise I will not drop you.” I turned to Rhysand, studying his wings in the moonlight. He gave me a slow grin when he noticed, fluttering his wings again, causing the ends of my dress to twirl around my legs.

I frowned down at the dress I'd selected out of the options Nuala and Cerridwen had given me. This was the one with the heaviest fabric and long sleeves, but the plunging neckline did nothing to keep me from the cold, even under my jacket.

“Maybe I should go change-and take the stairs.” Rhysand flicked out a wing to block my path. It was smooth flecked with iridescence and kept me from anyway around it short of jumping off the roof. I tightened the jacket around myself. I should have gone with the pants. I may have gained some weight back but I was still bony and the dress might as well have been on a corpse. 

Rhysand's hand gripped my face tightly, “never think that, Feyre. And keep your Shield's up.” and just like Under the Mountain I was looking at myself through his eyes. The dress looked good-it was startling to see myself through his eyes. My shoulders were no longer bony and sharp, my cheeks were no longer hollow, and the dark circles under my eyes had faded to a light purple color. I looked like I was remembering how to be alive. Being in the Night Court had kept me from sinking too far into myself after losing Tamlin. 

I pulled out of Rhysand's head just as quickly as I'd gone in, the snap back making my head spin. Rhysand pulled me into his arms, “easy Feyre.” 

“How...I've never gotten through your shields before.” I couldn't look him in the eye, I couldn't move. 

“It's okay, Feyre. We'll figure this out together. I should have kept my shields up, but I was so caught off guard-.” the bond between us suddenly surged to the forefront of my mind pulling taught. I slammed my walls down the same time he did, the reverberation shaking me to the core.

“I'm okay. We should get going.” I murmured, only now realizing I was tucked against his chest, wrapped soundly inside his arms and wings, “don't mess up my hair. Nuala spent a long time on it.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.” Rhysand teased, his voice thick.

“Can't we just meet here?” I asked, a last ditch effort not to surrender myself to him.

“Everyone is already up there. And besides, the House of Wind has enough space that I won't feel like chucking them all off the mountain.” Rhysand forced a laugh.

“Do I need to worry about being chucked off the mountain?”

“Never.” the tone of his voice struck down my spine, I knew it was true. He would never let any harm come to me.

“Perhaps it is big enough that I may not lose it in the face of so many people.” I murmured.

“You should be fine. Lucien is already up there, waiting to throw us off the mountain to protect you.” Rhysand chuckled.

“You heard that?”

“Even if I hadn't, he's a guard dog and you're his master.” Rhysand grinned at me, “are you ready?”

“As I'll ever be.” His hands circled around my waist, his wings arched back preparing to take off. But he paused, studying my face with concern. 

“You say the word tonight, and we come back here, no questions asked. If you can't work with them-us. No questions asked their either. I will help you and Lucien find a place here, in Velaris to live. Regardless of what I need from you, the choice is yours whether or not you give it to me.”

“Okay.” I whispered. 

I barely had time to brace my hands on his shoulders before we shot into the sky, fast as a shooting star.


End file.
